The Infant Stratagem
by panneler-san
Summary: How does an insane Auror convince a girl to have a Malfoy's baby? Ask Moody.
1. Do What?

A/N: This story was originally posted on another account I had, but I decided that I might as well move it here. I actually posted it elsewhere because I was afraid that DM's101 fans would get mad at me for writing this and not that. Well, I've decided that I don't quite care. :D

Enjoy!

Do What?

Potter had gone insane.

"You want me to _what?!_" Hermione screeched, jumping so violently from her chair that the wood cracked when it hit the kitchen floor.

For having the nerve, the absolute _gall_, to ask of her what he had just asked, Hermione was surprised that Harry had the decency to look uncomfortable. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning?" he suggested wearily.

Hermione made eye contact with her former Transfiguration Professor, whom also seemed uncertain. "I shall explain," McGonagall offered, nodding firmly, her already thin lips practically melting into her wrinkled face.

"No," Mad-Eye Moody barked gruffly, making everyone jump, "It was my damn idea, let me tell the girls."

"Still, though, I'm their friend," Harry interrupted, and Hermione nearly flipped over the table in frustration.

"I don't care who explains it," she yelled, slamming a fist down on the wood. "I just want to know why the _hell _you're asking me to have sex with Draco Malfoy!"

Seven Hours and Thirty-Two Minutes Prior…

When Moody sauntered into the hallway of Grimmauld Place covered in blood, Harry knew that someone had died.

"Who was it?" he asked quietly, not wanting to alert the other residents of the old house in the early hours of the morning. Bad news could wait until lunch.

"The Creevy brothers," he barked hoarsely, hanging up his dusty coat.

Harry closed his eyes.

"Damn little brats, the both of them. Left their post at the Owl Emporium to follow me. I didn't expect any Death Eaters to ambush me. They just got caught up in the aftermath."

"Damn it," Harry hissed.

"There's more, boy," Moody said gravely. "Don't get your knickers in a twist just yet."

"What else is there?" Harry asked. "No – We shouldn't have this conversation here. Let's go to the kitchen."

With the room safely silenced, Moody lumbered over to the table, sat down, and took a large swig of his flask. Harry eyed the silver item warily, and having noticed the boy's guarded expression, the scarred man said, "It's pumpkin juice, Potter. What did I just say about twisting your knickers?"

Harry blushed and averted his eyes. "Sorry," he said. "I haven't quite got over Barty Jr. He drank from that thing twice as much as you do."

Moody snorted. "Bloody imbecilic, if you ask me. He never would have got any sleep, the rat-infested-"

"What else was there, professor?" Harry interrupted before the Auror could start another rant. "About the ambush?"

He took another swig. "Malfoy."

Harry blinked.

"You won't want to hear this, Potter," he began, "but Malfoy is a damn sight more talented than most Wizards his age, and seeing as he has not yet been fully accepted as a Death Eater, there is still time to change his mind. Or," he added thoughtfully, "kidnap him, I'm not picky either way."

"I don't understand," Harry admitted, his head too full of what he still had to do – contact Colin and Dennis' parents, rendezvous up more guards to watch the Owl Emporium, arrange a funeral service, double check with Ron, Bill, and Charley in Romania and make absolute _sure _that they could bring over at least three Chinese Fireballs to aide in the war effort…

Moody was indifferent to all this. "Malfoy was leading the attack," he explained. "Didn't kill a single one of those fool brothers, he's too much of a coward, but call me mad, Potter, the boy looked as if he didn't want to be there."

Harry shook his head. "You want Malfoy on our side."

The man nodded.

"Impossible," Harry whispered. "There isn't a single thing in the world that could tempt him into switching loyalties, especially if it means being loyal to me."

"Not a one, Potter?" Alastor asked skeptically, magical blue eye suddenly swirling back and forth. "Haven't done your homework on Pureblood Family traditions, have you?"

The dark-haired boy's interest was caught. "Is there a way?" he asked. He hated Malfoy, but at this point in time, Harry would readily admit to wishing the blonde heir was on their side.

"More than one," he murmured. "There's only one that will take fewer than three months, though, and I'll say this now, Potter, because you aren't going to like it – Granger, Lovegood, or Weasley is going to hate you forever for this."

Harry felt so tired. He found he hardly cared. "Anything that will help us win," he said.

Moody nodded, and his eye swiveled back into place. "You said it yourself. This is mad, Potter. This idea is completely and entirely mad."

There was a small silence in which Harry hesitated. Then, the moment passed.

"What do we do?"

… … …

Hermione could hardly believe her ears. Ginny hadn't said anything at all, and even Luna was quiet.

"As I said," Alastor Moody continued, "Push is coming to shove, and we need Malfoy on our side. The quickest way for him to switch sides – whether willingly or unwillingly, either way I don't really care – is to have an heir."

Hermione blinked. "Hair?"

"_Heir_, Hermione," Harry snapped impatiently. "Descendent. Offspring. A _baby_."

The image of a toddler with platinum-blonde and _very _bushy hair popped into her mind, brandishing the sword of Gryffindor, which had turned green and silver.

Ginny spoke up. "Are you serious?" she asked dumbly.

Moody suddenly barked "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" and everyone jumped. "Didn't that clone teach you anything, Weasley?" he asked. "We aren't doing this blindly. This is our only option, and we need that boy here, do you understand? We're aware of the danger."

Luna was silent still, and Hermione recognized the dawning expression of horror splashed across her face. Under the table, she took the younger girl's hand and squeezed. Luna looked up, caught Hermione's eye, and smiled weakly.

"Okay," sighed Ginny, "Fine, you're aware of the danger. So, which one of us is going to be the mother?"

Hermione blinked. "What? Mother?"

All eyes turned on Harry, who sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "There's this Pureblood thing," he explained, and Hermione risked a glance at Ginny and Luna, the only Purebloods she knew in the room.

The red-headed young woman certainly look as if she knew what he was talking about. Luna knew, too, judging by the look on her face.

"What is this Pureblood thing?" Hermione asked quietly, feeling a sense of foreboding.

"You see," he said, "Purebloods like the Malfoys are obsessed with tradition, and take great pride in their family line and heritage. I didn't know this before this morning, but they don't allow – er – intercourse before marriage. They're actually quite conservative," he added lightly. "Almost too conservative, if you know what-"

"Too long, Potter," Moody growled. "I'll take over. Every time a Pureblood gets pregnant or impregnates someone else before they're married, there is a deep magic in their blood that binds them to that child, so that they can't escape from the unwanted situation at hand, because the lineage will be lost. So, their loyalty will have to lie, because of the deep magic, with their child, and the mother bearing that child."

Hermione was beginning to understand what they wanted her, Ginny, or Luna to do. And she didn't like it.

"The quickest way to getting Malfoy on our side is to shift his loyalties with magic no one can change," Moody concluded. "We want one of you to do this."

Luna was positively shaking now. Hermione was scared, too, but Luna was terrified. Where had the strange, light-hearted Luna gone? Ginny looked hurt, and stared at an uncomfortable Harry.

"To make it fair, we'll do a wee bit of a drawing," McGonagall said apologetically. "Here – I have three of Sirius Black's old silverware. Two are forks, one is a spoon. If you pick that, then you'll be chosen for this mission." McGonagall glared at Moody and Harry for a moment, clearly unhappy with this idea as well, before she held out three silver handles.

"We all have to give things up for the war," Harry said when no one moved. "I'm sorry this has to happen."

Luna reached forward first, hand shaking. She gripped the utensil in the middle and pulled. It slipped into sight, and everyone froze. Luna had picked the spoon.

McGonagall dropped the two forks onto the table top and sniffed. Ginny seemed relieved. Hermione was horrified. _A one out of thee chance to pick the spoon, _she thought, _and Luna picked it on the first try._

A sparkle of tears gleamed in Luna's eyes. Hermione felt her heart lurch.

"Well, then," whispered the Auror. "We'll brief you on the plan after dinner, so why don't you-"

Hermione slammed her hands down on the table, standing up forcefully again, and yelled, "I'll do it!"

Everyone looked at her in shock.

"I'll do it!" she cried again. "I have the least to lose! Luna and Ginny, they've got families, but I don't! You can't do that to them, I'll do it!"

"Miss Granger," whispered the former professor tearfully.

Luna looked at Hermione as if she had saved her life. "Hermione," she said sadly.

The bushy-haired woman turned to face Harry, fire blazing in her brown eyes, and said, "What's the plan?"

… … …

The plan for Hermione to seduce Draco Malfoy and have his child was top secret - if and when he switched sides, hardly anyone could know. So, after explaining what he was about to do to Ginny and Luna, Mad-Eye Moody wiped their memories.

Hermione could have sworn that Ginny mumbled under her breath, "I don't _want _to remember this, anyway."

When they came to, Harry gave them breakfast with a smile, and the only people who knew were he, McGonagall, Moody, and Hermione herself.

Perhaps it had not yet hit her, but Hermione felt quite indifferent to the whole mad plan. It _was _mad, _entirely _mad. Soon the rest of the Black House woke up, and Hermione glared at everyone that was blissfully ignorant.

True, she had agreed to do anything to win the war when she officially joined the Order of the Phoenix, but this had never crossed her mind as a possibility. After lunch, training began.

"Now," growled Moody, "If we want you to convince Malfoy to-"

"Alastor, chose your words wisely," McGonagall cautioned. "Hermione is only twenty-three."

"She's an adult, isn't she?" he asked gruffly. "Why censor? If you want to seduce the poor boy, you need to know how to do it."

Hermione gulped and looked at Harry. He stared a hole into the floor, face bright red. They were all in Sirius' old room, the door locked and a silencing charm intact. Not a soul would know this had ever happened. She thought of Ginny and Luna, who didn't and wouldn't remember that they were nearly in the same situation as she.

Lucky whelps.

"Do you know how to seduce a man, girl?" Moody barked.

Hermione gulped. "Uh-"

"That's a no, then," he said. "We'll train you for a week, and then Minerva can see about intercepting the boy's schedule so we can go ahead with the plan. It should be done as soon as possible."

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm in way over my head, aren't I?" she asked.

Moody barked out a laugh. "Of course you are!" he affirmed none-too gently. "You're about to fuck a Malfoy."

… … …

The day arrived. Hermione felt a completely surreal sense envelop her. All the things she had been "taught" were swimming around in her head. Harry's face had been red all week, Moody burst out laughing whenever he saw her (causing lots of fear in the ignorant), and McGonagall seemed wholly awkward.

"Now," the old Professor mumbled under her breath as the two hurried along a dark street, "Remember everything we taught you. You must succeed. The balance of the war could rest on this."

"Professor," Hermione whispered, "Isn't this unfair?"

"Of course," she replied. "But we did make the decision in a split second...I will admit, I'm not too fond of this method, but I do see the advantages to having Mr. Malfoy on our side."

There was no way she could back out now.

"He'll be on the second floor," she continued as they turned a dark corner. "This pub is a membership pub, so you'll need a password to get in. I did some digging, and the password is 'Bat Snout'. Will you be okay?"

Hermione would be eternally grateful that someone had asked. "I'm about to sacrifice my life, limb, and womb for the cause of the greater good," she mumbled. "How would you be?"

The former Professor's face darkened. "Good luck, Miss Granger."

As she faced the building that would change her life, Hermione couldn't resist thinking, quite sarcastically, that she was going to need all the luck she could get.

After all, in the words of Mad-Eye Moody, she was about to fuck a Malfoy.


	2. The Fine Art of Scorning

A/N: Enjoy Chapter Two.

The Fine Art of Scorning

Draco Malfoy hated his job.

He hadn't even been accepted into the ranks of the Death Eaters, and his father had him leading raids and seeking out hidden rebels. The Dark Lord was still displeased with his actions in Draco's sixth year at Hogwarts.

He was beginning to think that he was never going to be forgiven.

He spent his days avoiding his father, who would only give him tasks if he saw him. Lucius's master never gave him missions – he wasn't worthy.

"Draco."

He had his eyes closed. _Please, _he thought, _think I'm asleep and leave. Please..._

"Draco, I have a task for you."

_Damn. _His eyes cracked open in the darkness of his room, and slowly he sat up.

Lucius Malfoy was a flagitious man, tall, sinister, and pale, and standing over Draco's bed he looked simply terrifying. "So you were awake."

The younger Malfoy said, "Father."

"We have obtained information from our informant. Suit up. I have need of you."

Grudgingly, Draco got to his feet and fumbled around the discarded clothes on his floor for the midnight-black robes he wore when he was out on business. He hadn't been given a Death Eater garb – he wasn't a Death Eater, after all.

"Alastor Moody," continued the patriarchal blonde, "will be walking the streets of Diagon Alley in two hours. You are to take him by surprise. Kill him, if you can."

So, old Mad-Eye had finally earned himself the title KOS; Kill on Sight. Draco had expected it to happen for a while, now - Moody could fight the unforgivable curses, and wouldn't talk even if they sawed off all his limbs. After that, he would just be a waste of time.

Kingsley had been added to the KOS list shortly after the failed attack at Hogwarts six years prior, but the man had vanished, leaving the Order of the Phoenix with no leader. Since then, it had been a game of cat and mouse that Draco detested. One side would gain Hogwarts, and soon after the other side would take it back. Her had done the math, and his side was losing more people than Potter's; the Dark Lord did not look kindly on failures.

"Take Crabbe and Goyle, if you must," the pale Malfoy allowed, eyes narrowing. "Not their idiot sons, though. I trust you to do these things, but not them."

"Yes, Father," Draco answered in monotone.

With a look Draco could almost pin as disgusted, Lucius Malfoy hurried out of the room with a swish of his cloak.

… … …

He really hated killing people. Whenever he could avoid it, he would. With Crabbe and Goyle waiting behind him, they lurked in shadow. Any minute, Moody would be walking down the darkened street.

Finally, in the distance, he appeared. Draco frowned. There were two others with him. "Father hasn't told me about this," he muttered.

"Stay on your toes, Draco," Goyle cautioned.

He was once again surprised that his friends had inherited their intelligence from their mothers.

"There are three of them. Even if we can't take out Moody tonight, we can get the other two."

As the trio drew closer, a sinking feeling began to settle into his stomach - he recognized their faces. Colin and Dennis Creevy had grown up, but they were both still idiots. "Why did you come?" Draco growled under his breath. "You shouldn't have come..."

Crabbe and Goyle attacked. Moody reacted instantly, as if he'd been expecting it all along, but the Creevy brothers weren't as prepared. Draco prayed that he wouldn't have to kill anyone, and stepped out of his hiding place, pointing his wand right at Dennis's heart. _"Reducto!"_

_ "Protego!" _cried his brother, and the spell bounced back. He dodged, and a wayward spell from Crabbe came flying at them. Draco recognized it's dark purple shimmer, and an insane plan sprouted in is head. Acting on a whim, Draco seized the two boys by the scruffs of their necks and pulled them back.

Quickly pointing his wand at the three adults, he cried, _"Turbosum!"_

He didn't stop to see if it had worked.

"Go," he urged the brothers.

They looked at him in shock. "Malfoy!" squeaked Colin, and Dennis gasped.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" he roared. "GO!"

They took one look at Moody, Crabbe, and Goyle and ran in the opposite direction. Draco turned away, and the glossy look in the Death Eater's eyes was already fading. His confusion spell hadn't lasted long. When they did come to, Draco needed an alibi for the few short seconds they had been out.

Pointing his wand straight at Moody, who was also recovering from the spell, he shouted, _"Sectumsempura!"_

The deep cut that slashed across Moody's chest seemed to bring him and the others into full consciousness, and Draco prayed that the brothers had gotten away. But suddenly, Crabbe raised his wand, pointing it at the blonde boy, and bellowed _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

He froze, but the spell flew straight past him, over his shoulder, and Draco heard an anguished cry of "NO!" before Crabbe spoke the dreaded words again, and two distinct thuds met his ears.

Moody roared.

Draco looked back and forth, unsure of what to do, angry at himself for not being able to prevent another death, and angry at the Dark Lord for everything. Briefly, both of the old Auror's eyes were fixed on his own, but then he turned suddenly on the spot, vanishing with a _crack_.

"Damn! The bastard got away!"

"He won't get far with those injuries. Good job, Draco. Even if he isn't dead, that will put him out of commission for at least a week."

"The Dark Lord will be pleased - with Lucius.

He only stared blankly at two dark silhouettes, nearly around the next corner, lying in the street, the ghost of their last moments fading from their eyes.

… … …

Hermione took a deep breath.

_Can you hear me, Miss Granger?_

The clear, crisp voice of Professor McGonagall filled her head, and Hermione flinched.

_That's a yes, then. Still not used to this, are you? Neither am I, I'm afraid..._

She looked around, hoping to actually see the Professor there, speaking next to her, but she was alone on the street, in front of the building, waiting in the darkness.

_We only have half an hour before our connection is cut, Miss Granger - I disapprove of using this magic to communicate, but we have to move now, or abandon the mission._

She knew it. "I'll go in, then," she murmured, and found that she was sweating profusely.

Once she passed the little white picket fence surrounding the abandoned apartment complex, the image melted away to a new, luminescent, brick building, from which neon light and loud, booming music was coming.

"I can do this," she said to herself, and McGonagall sighed.

_I'm truly sorry. You're giving up your life for this cause. It isn't too late – you can apparate back to Grimmauld place now, and tell Alastor that you've changed your mind. I will always speak for you._

Hermione gulped, looked confidently up, and walked straight into the lion's mouth.

A Wizard she assumed to be a guard stood just inside the door, next to a grand staircase with very few patrons walking up or down it. Everyone was dressed in something fancy, frilly, or revealing, and Hermione nervously smoothed the hem of her coat, dreading what was underneath. The Wizard stared at her, expressionless.

_Start acting, dear. Don't be scared – I'll be here for as long as I can._

The young woman flashed a closed-lip smile. "Good evening," she said warmly.

The wizard remained expressionless. "Here for the night?" he asked gruffly. "You're in the wrong place."

Already it was falling apart. "D-do you know the main ingredient in a consciousness potion?" she asked him. If he did, he didn't show it. She swallowed. "It's a bat snout."

After a tense moment, the wizard's cold face split into a welcoming grin. "Glad to see you here, my Lady," he gushed. "Tonight's special is Egyptian Firewhisky, imported straight from the Nile Land herself. Please, enjoy the evening."

_Good. Go up the stairs, act natural._

Hermione flashed another lip-sealed smile and did her best to saunter up the steps. The anticipation was thudding in her chest, and she had to steady herself with the handrail. Soon, she would leave everything she had ever known behind her, and dedicate her life to her mission.

Soon she would be trapped.

The wide room, cast over in a faint, blue haze, hosted only fifteen or so patrons, and her eyes scanned over them all quickly. Draco Malfoy wasn't hard to spot.

There he sat, at one end of the bar counter, staring listlessly into a bright red drink. Her heart took off, and so many different emotions enveloped her that she nearly killed him on the spot.

_Calm down, Miss Granger. I know you have not had a lovely relationship with Mr. Malfoy, but you must put all that _aside _for today. Sit at the opposite end of the counter, and take off your coat, girl!_

Her trembling fingers flew to the buttons. It _was _rather hot inside (or perhaps it was just her, ready to explode?), so she shed the extra garment happily, trying to avoid noticing the chill around her. Step by step, she moved toward the unoccupied end of the counter, as instructed, and slung her coat over the chair next to her. Although she had not intended for it, her eyes were glued to Malfoy, who had not yet noticed her presence.

"What can I get for you, Madame?" asked a deep voice, and Hermione stiffened.

_Just the bartender. Order a ginseng tea. You absolutely cannot get drunk._

She acted again, smiling pleasantly at the man standing behind the counter. "A ginseng tea would be perfect," she said, and the man smiled back before heading back into the kitchen.

She resumed staring at Malfoy. After a minute, he still hadn't moved, and Hermione whispered frantically under her breath, "It isn't working, Professor, he doesn't even know that I'm here!"

_There's a man behind you, in white robes. He's walking toward you. Use that to your advantage. Whatever advances he makes, you must ignore them. Let _him _draw Mr. Malfoy's attention._

She had a plan. Thank _god_, she had a plan. As promised, the man in white robes sat next to her, knocking her coat to the floor. Already she hated him.

"Haven't seen you here," he said.

She noticed his eyes wandering to her neckline, which she roughly jerked up.

"Nice robes," he commented when she said nothing. "I only ever buy from Ferria. It's a good brand."

At that moment the bartender placed her tea in front of her, and she took it with a smile.

The man tried again. "Blue suits you," he said. When she sipped her tea instead of replying to him, he reached out and took a strand of her hair. "How do you get it like this?" he asked, and Hermione pushed his hand away in actual annoyance. He grinned. "It's so…wild. I like wild."

She huffed a sigh and took another sip.

The man's eyebrows twitched, and another voice rang from across the room. "Take it easy, Klide, it's the lady's first time to the club."

Klide grinned wider, the shout having made most of the very few guests turn to look at them. Could this be it? Hermione's eyes snapped back to Malfoy, who was turning his head in what she felt was slow motion.

Their eyes met. This astonished her so that she didn't have to feign surprise. She hadn't looked Draco Malfoy in the eye in years. His shock was undoubtedly genuine. A high-pitched, "Granger?" forced Klide to look at him.

"You know this woman?" he asked carefully.

Still shocked, Malfoy hardly seemed composed. "Y-yeah, I do."

"Don't mind if I take her off your hands for tonight, do you?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Share and share alike," said Klide, shrugging.

Hermione couldn't suppress a shudder.

_Say something now, _McGonagall prompted. _Repeat after me: I'll stay here, thanks._

"I'll stay here, thanks," she answered him coolly, and the two males looked at her.

"What, not one for fun?" asked Klide.

Malfoy shocked them all by telling him curtly, "She said no. Go elsewhere."

He laughed. "Who the hell are you?" he asked. "I'm trying to make an acquaintance. You go elsewhere."

The blonde man tilted his head a little to the side. "I'm Draco Malfoy. Still want me to leave?"

Klide's already unpleasant face lost its color rather quickly. "Malfoy?" he murmured, and backed away.

Hermione watched as he rejoined his two friends in the corner, and all three of them shot worried glances at Malfoy. She looked at him. "Thank you."

He returned to his glass. "What is Granger doing in an elite club?" he asked. "Still freeing House Elves, are we?"

_I'm glad you're here._

"I'm glad you're here," she mimicked, speaking more to McGonagall than her target. Still, he looked back at her in silence, eyes fixed in place.

_Push your hair back behind your ear, Miss Granger. _She did so elegantly, with a single sweep of her hand. Malfoy's eyes followed every motion. _I've always wondered what you've been doing since Hogwarts._

"I've always wondered what you've been doing since Hogwarts," she said.

_Is that any way to sit to get a man interested? Straighten up! Position four!_

She lengthened her spine, resting her elbow on the counter, crossed her legs, and leaned forward slightly. Her legs had never been so exposed, and Malfoy knew it.

He was now conscious of her robes, which she was entirely unhappy about. They were shorter, tighter, bluer, and deeper, but still refined. She had initially liked the robes when Harry picked them out, but soon grew to hate them after Moody finished all the "necessary adjustments".

She expected some kind of reaction, anything, an insult, a jab, a sneer, a laugh, even a bloody compliment. What she hadn't expected was for him to completely ignore her state of undress. "We aren't friends," he suddenly informed her, and she nearly fell out of her chair. "I was glad we'd lost contact."

Anger bubbled inside of her chest, and McGonagall soothed her. _Hush, we knew this wouldn't be easy. After me, now: Still, it's nice. Hogwarts feels decades away._

She smiled softly, surprising Malfoy a little, and repeated the words. "Still," she sighed wistfully, twisting her tea around on the coaster, "it's nice. Hogwarts feels decades away."

He stared at her, as if he couldn't believe she was not defending an argument.

Worried that the silence was permanent, she added, "I thought about you."

He snorted. "All the ways you wished I would die?"

She shook her head and said McGonagall's words. "No. Just…thinking." At that point, the Professor demanded that she retrieve her coat, so she hopped off the stool and bent over, disgusted that Malfoy was now forced to look straight at her cleavage. One day she was getting a very through apology from Moody.

When she had returned to her seat, Malfoy's expression had not changed at all. She remembered not to frown. Had he been watching? McGonagall suggested that she move closer, so coat in hand, she took up the seat next to his. _I almost missed you. And get closer – I'm running out of time. Do something drastic._

Her head swam with everything she had been taught. Was it okay to use that on Malfoy now? When they had barely been reunited for ten minutes? It was too early to tell. Hermione threw all caution to the wind, and imagined all the different ways she could kill him as she gently pressed her chest against his arm. "I almost missed you," she murmured.

No reaction.

None? Not even a 'get away from me'? She threw all the caution that perhaps she hadn't thrown to the wind to the wind, and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "I really _am_ glad that you're here."

_More drastic!_

She placed her hand on his thigh without a second thought, and their eyes locked. After a very long moment, he smirked.

"You shouldn't drink alcohol," he said, and nudged her away from him. "I'm not really into Mudbloods."

She felt as if she'd been slapped. McGonagall sputtered nonsense words that she couldn't make out, and Draco Malfoy simply stood, brushed off his robes, and walked away.

Harry, Moody, and McGonagall were waiting for her when she returned to Grimmauld place.

"That self-righteous, arrogant _prick, _I'll wring his neck! Was Hermione the problem?" asked Harry worriedly. She could hear them speaking from outside the house. "Was there something wrong with her appearance? I didn't see her before she left, so I don't-"

She knocked, the door swung open, and Harry's jaw dropped. "No, Hermione was _not _the problem. By the way," he added, pointing his wand at her, "What was the first thing you bought in Honeydukes?"

Her face contorted with the memory. "A cockroach cluster. There was a bee that somehow got added to the mix."

He lowered his wand and ushered her inside.

"Where is everyone?" she asked.

"Out," replied Moody roughly. "What went wrong?"

She shook her head. "I don't know."

"There was no reaction?" Harry asked McGonagall, who had seen and heard everything Hermione had.

The Professor shook her head. "Not a one."

"Did you try position four?" the Auror asked.

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "I sure my robes rode halfway up my thighs when I crossed my legs, but he didn't even look."

"I swear he's gay," Harry mumbled, looking over Hermione again. "You look terrific, by the way. Not in a tart-ish way either, which is nice."

"Off topic, Potter," growled Moody. "We obviously don't know what attracts the boy. Robes like these won't do, then. I'll have to rethink our attack strategy."

Hermione's heart dropped. "We're going to try again?" she asked deftly.

"Of course. We need a spy, Granger. We need one now, and it's too risky to plant anyone at this point. We'll try until we succeed. No worries," he added as he turned on his heels to go back to the drawing board, "We'll have you pregnant in no time."

A/N:

Previous Chapter: Do What?

Next Chapter: Hell Hath no Fury

So, here is chapter two, and relatively soon, as well. I can't be sure, but I predict about 12-20 chapters. Is that acceptable? Too many, too few? Please help me out! Reviews are very helpful in expression your opinion and giving me critique. Thank you!

Panneler-san


	3. Hell Hath no Fury

A/N: Enjoy!

Hell Hath no Fury

They tried again.

"Granger."

"Oh. Hello, again."

Malfoy stared at her suspiciously, as though he knew she had a hidden agenda. Hermione only smiled and resisted the urge to pull the hem of her shorts down as far as the stiff denim would allow.

Today, they had met by "chance" at a Weird Sister's concert, and although Hermione liked them, she couldn't concentrate at all. She was too distracted by her outfit today, which had her perspiring nervously.

_You're going to ruin the hair straightening solution, _complained McGonagall. _Come now, say something. After me..._

"This is a surprise," she quoted, and McGonagall whispered furiously in her ear. "I didn't know you liked the Weird Sisters."

He looked back at the stage. "It was an acquired taste."

_Position three, _McGonagall ordered, and Hermione moved immediately so that her shoulder pressed slightly up against his, and her arm occupied most of their shared armrest. Malfoy dropped his hands into his lap. _Get some physical contact. And I do hate to say this, but stop pulling on your shorts._

"You look uncomfortable," she said. Really, he couldn't have looked more content if he'd just won a million Galleons. "Why don't you put your arm up, so you aren't squished?"

An extremely fat man sat to his left, and that armrest was completely out of sight. Hermione scooted her arm over a teeny bit with a smile.

He stared expressionlessly at her, not budging an inch. She squirmed, uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze, and crossed her legs so that their shoulders pressed together more firmly. McGonagall spoke through her mouth. "I'm glad to see you here," she admitted. "I got tickets, but no one could come, so I was afraid that I'd be here all alone…"

At the former Professor's instruction, she reached over and patted a little farther up his leg than she was entirely comfortable with.

"Thank you," she said, hoping she sounded sincere.

"What are you doing?" he asked bluntly.

She blinked. "What?"

He looked at her with hard eyes. "You're being all touchy-feely. This isn't like you at all, don't you know that?"

_I've changed, _McGonagall said in her mind, jumping at the sudden chance.

"I've changed," she whispered.

_This war, it's changed all of us._

"This war," Hermione swallowed and looked away, pressing slightly closer to him, "it's changed all of us."

He pulled away. "Not me."

She stared.

"Maybe you didn't understand this the first time I said it, Granger," he growled, standing up. "I'll say it again; I'm not into Mudbloods. I want no reconciliation with you. The next time we run into each other, pretend you don't know me."

_Stand up! Quickly, grab his arm!_

Hermione jumped to her feet and scrambled for his arm, missed her target, and grabbed his hand instead. "Malfoy, wait!" she cried. "Please, I-"

A wave of fans that had been swaying back and forth (and whom Hermione decided were all very drunk) tipped over and knocked into her, sending her flying straight into Malfoy's chest. They both made small exclamations of surprise and tumbled to the ground.

_Good, good! Use this! Position two! _squawked McGonagall.

Not missing a beat, Hermione twisted in mid-air, falling so that she landed right in his lap. "Ow," she whined, and gently gripped Malfoy's shoulder with her hand, while the other rested – supposedly in ignorance – on his hip.

Malfoy's arms had come around her automatically to shield her from the fall, and now he was rigid, very aware of her whole body. But, Hermione thought, it wasn't good enough.

Slowly she looked up at him, pressing herself entirely against his chest, and asked quietly, "Are you hurt?"

He stared, eyes wide.

_The moment is now, Miss Granger! You must try and kiss him! Our course of action will depend on how he responds!_

Her heart started thudding so quickly that she was sure it was impossible for it to have doubled speed that fast. But wait…half of the beating wasn't coming from her. With their chests pressed tightly together, Hermione could feel it – his heart moved vigorously, nearly as fast as her own. Was it really working? Slowly, she lifted her face. "Malfoy," she whispered.

He suddenly stood, shoving her violently. His face was contorted in anger. "Stay away from me!" he ordered, and strode off quickly into the crowd.

_Oh, Bullocks, _complained the Professor.

… … …

They tried a third time.

"Oh, Malfoy! Help me lift this, please, you can kill me later!"

He eyed the space where the porously short shirt hovered above her jeans, showing off her stomach. The thing that bugged her the most was that he eyed her with absolutely no interest. "Leave me alone, Granger."

They tried a fourth time.

"Malfoy, fancy seeing you here at the robe shop! Could you help me button up the back? I can't reach it…"

He took one look at her exposed skin, turned around, and left without so much as a frown.

They tried again.

"Oh, no! I have a leg cramp! Save me, Malfoy!"

"You followed me to the _pool_?" He shook his head and left. Hermione stared after him, shivering in her white and now very transparent clothing.

And again.

"Oh, no!" She had spilled pumpkin juice all over his pants at the café he went to. "Here, let me help you wipe it off!"

"Stop!"

And again…

"Malfoy, my breasts are really sore, could you help me massage them?"

"Granger, what the _hell?!_"

By the end of the second week, Hermione was ready to kill every person that dared talk to her.

"We have to succeed next time," Moody said after dinner in Sirius's room. "This has either been building up or falling apart."

"The boy responds to nothing!" McGonagall growled, nearly as frustrated as Hermione was. "It's as if he has no attraction to women whatsoever!"

"I called it," Harry said. "He's gay."

"He isn't gay!" Hermione snapped. "Don't you remember Parkinson?"

"What haven't we tried, yet?" Moody mumbled under his breath. "Should we just go all out?"

Hermione blinked. "All out?"

"Even someone as sexually stimulated as Malfoy will respond to a girl pushing him down," he continued. "But, then he might suspect. Damn, I hate complications."

"It isn't like we have any other options at this point," Harry said. "Malfoy isn't going to jump her himself, is he?"

Lightning struck Hermione. "Merlin!" she exclaimed.

They all looked at her. "What?"

"Harry, why didn't you say so before?!" she chastised, and raced from the room.

"Gone mental, that one," Harry mumbled.

"I think I know what she's up to," said Moody. "Clever girl."

"What, Alastor?" asked McGonagall. "What is she doing?"

"Putting the cards in our hands," he said, and suddenly the sound of Mrs. Black's screams filled the entire house, and pots and glass and other things clattered around in the kitchen noisily. Moody grinned. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

… … …

She had never felt more devious in her entire life.

"What are you making?" Harry asked her the next morning as she sat over a vigorously bubbling cauldron.

She grabbed yet another handful of couchgrass, adding it to the milky mixture. "It's for me to know and you to find out," she responded, stirring the concoction twice, and it then turned a lovely shade of pink.

"You've been working on it since last night," he commented. "Is it for the mission?"

She said nothing, and instead fumbled around in the drawers until she found a whole sprig of peppermint.

"Look," said Harry quietly, "Maybe…we can forget this. Malfoy isn't worth this trouble. We can just-"

"Absolutely not, Harry," she chided. "I'll have your mission completed for you by the end of Wednesday."

He eyed the bubbling vat suspiciously. "That isn't a love potion, is it?"

"Of course not!" she responded angrily, chopping the peppermint with gusto. "When it wore off he would know he'd been tricked. Honestly, Harry, do you think I wouldn't have considered all the possibilities? This is the best option." She opened a cupboard, and frowned upon finding it empty. "Are we out of turtle blood?"

He stared. "What do you need that for?"

"Go get some for me, please," she ordered, and went back to stirring the cauldron.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled, and grabbed his cloak on the way out the door.

… … …

"You're positive about the schedule for the train?" Hermione asked the next morning, and McGonagall nodded.

"I had to pull strings to get them to agree. And you, Miss Granger? You're sure this will work?"

Hermione grinned. "I'll bet all my OWL's it works," she affirmed.

"Good luck, girl," barked Moody.

"I'll be fine," she responded.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and they all jumped. "Fine isn't good enough. Do well, come back safe."

She smiled. "Thank you."

Harry looked apprehensive. "Can you do it?" he asked.

She nodded. "I can."

Once she set off, Hermione checked her watch constantly.

_Time is of the essence, _McGonagall told her at least twice on her way.

Finally, she arrived at King's Cross at exactly one PM.

_I'm pulling out. It's up to you, Miss Granger. Remember, we are always here for you._

"Thank you, Professor," she mumbled under her breath, and the old woman's presence left her mind.

Hermione stepped past the gate to Platform 9 ¾ and headed straight for the conductor on sight, sporting a blue cap and matching coat. "Excuse me," she said, "Can you tell me where the train that leaves for Leeds is? I'm afraid I'm almost late."

He pointed to a cozy-looking train, resting behind the monster that was the Hogwarts Express, and she thanked him warmly and headed toward it. Once her ticket had been handed to the woman collecting them, she was let onto the train and headed straight for the back.

McGonagall assured her that every other compartment on the train would be too full to allow for any additional passengers.

The compartment was empty, and Hermione sighed in relief. "I got here before him, then," she murmured. If she wanted him to think it was a coincidence, she had to be there first.

She sat in the corner and screwed her eyes shut, doing her best to look as unconscious as possible. Minutes passed, and then footsteps approached. The compartment door slid open.

"Merlin!" she heard Malfoy exclaim. "Why is she _here_?!"

Hermione flinched, yawned, and rolled her eyes open slowly. When their eyes met, she blinked. "Oh," she said.

He gave her a dirty look and shut the door behind him. "Everywhere else is full," he explained, and plopped down on the opposite side.

She did her best to look confused. "You...Why? Here…"

"Not awake yet, Granger?" he asked. "I'm taking a train. As are you, apparently. Why on earth are _you _going to Leeds?"

"Business trip," she mumbled.

After their seventh year at Hogwarts, Harry had thought it best that every member of the Order be kept secret as best as possible. So, Hermione had obtained a "job" as a freelance journalist for the Daily Prophet, which she did occasionally send articles to, to avoid suspicion. Ron had started working with Dragons, just like his brother, while really he was undercover in Romania.

Some had joined, some had not, and the numbers and facts were too uneven and random to be guessable. No one knew who was a member except for the members themselves. Because of this policy they had adopted, the Death Eaters had mimicked them, and now no one was certain of anything.

"Some Colleges are - but you don't really care, do you?" she asked.

He looked out the window, and the train lurched forward. "Not really."

The next whole hour they sat in silence. Hermione found it extremely difficult to talk to him without McGonagall helping from the sidelines, and didn't open her mouth at all. Malfoy, it seemed, was content. She checked her watch as the day grew later, and finally, it was time.

The train suddenly screeched, the brakes locking into place, and they both were jostled from their seats.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, peering out the glass.

"I don't know," he said. "Obviously the train stopped."

"What?" she asked shrilly. "I have an interview tomorrow..."

"We won't be stuck here forever, Granger," he said. "I'll go talk to the conductor - hold on."

He left, and Hermione couldn't resist smiling as he vanished up the long hall. So far, so good.

When Malfoy returned, he looked considerably angry. "The conductor's said the train is broke," he informed her. "We aren't getting out of here."

She feigned worry. "What about apparating?" she asked. "Is it too far?"

"It's another hour by train, Granger," he said. "You do the math."

She hid a smile with a frown, knowing full well that it was too far to apparate. _Perfect_.

They sat in silence for several minutes, and then Hermione huffed, stood quickly, and grabbed his hand. He blinked. "What?"

"I'm not waiting around for them to fix the train, it'll take ages," she explained, giving him a tug. "There's a small local station a few miles from here, I think - I was there earlier this year, the trains should be running... We can get to Leeds in two hours if we go now, and Merlin knows how long it'll take them to fix this thing!"

His eyes sparkled in understanding. "You're sure we can get there in two hours?" he asked.

She nodded. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

He sighed. "Why do I get tangled up with you? Fine, let's go."

Lightning flashed against the windows, and thunder soon rolled after it. Rain was starting to fall. "We'd better go now," she said. "We might be able to outrun the storm - we'll be stuck here overnight if we don't leave."

They got firmer grips on the other's arm, and then Hermione turned on the spot.

The duo appeared with a _crack _outside of a smaller station, and were instantly soaked through. Malfoy shouted in surprise. "Merlin!" he exclaimed. "It's already raining here, Granger, inside, quickly!"

She dashed through the door, Malfoy close on her tail. "Excuse me!" she cried out to the sleeping man behind the counter. The rest of the station was deserted.

He stopped snoring and cracked open an eye. "What'd yeh want?" he growled, voice remarkably similar to Hagrid's.

"When is the next train for Leeds leaving?" she asked, wringing out her hair. Malfoy was muttering spells, and his robes twisted themselves dry.

The man's beady eyes narrowed. "Ain't a single train leaving from this place till morning," he spoke harshly. "You'll find every train's broke down - som'n 'bout rain, interferes with magic in Muggle technology. There's a bed 'n breakfast just cross the street, don't loiter and be on yer way."

Malfoy, Hermione noticed, was visibly paler. Shooting the rain a worried glance, she muttered, "Damn, let's go. We can find out what to do once we're inside."

He sighed, and grudgingly followed her across the road. "What do we do?" he asked once they were inside. "We can't get there until morning, at this rate. We can't go anywhere else, either, because of the rain."

Hermione looked around. "I guess," she suggested slowly, "We could spend the night?"

His eyes snapped to hers. For a moment, his gaze flicked down to her soaked shirt, and then back to her eyes, just as fast. He shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure, Granger," he said.

She monitored his every move. Shifting? This was new. Was something different happening? Whatever it was, different was good. If he was giving in, or even considering, she needed to jump on the chance now.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, and brought a hand to her head. "Ah…"

He looked alarmed. "What?" he asked. "What is it?"

One hand snuck into her wet robes and gripped her wand. She used a nonverbal spell, and suddenly her forehead felt pleasantly warm. "M-my head," she gasped. "I suddenly felt dizzy…"

He strode forward immediately, clapping his palm over her forehead. After a second of concentration, his eyes widened and he nearly jumped back. "Merlin, Granger!" he cried. "You're burning!"

It was now or never.

She made a show of rolling her eyes to the back of her head, and tipping over. He caught her, completely unwillingly, seeing as she had fallen toward him. "Granger." She was shaken twice. "Granger! Damn it, why me?!"

In twenty minutes, they were upstairs. Hermione listened until the door to the room clicked open, and Malfoy hauled her inside over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He haphazardly tossed her on the bed and sighed.

"Damn workout," he huffed, shutting the door. Hermione cracked open an eye. "Where do they keep the water in this place?"

She glanced up to her watch and smiled. At four sharp, the information phone rang. He muttered something about Muggle appliances and answered the phone.

"Hello?" he asked, setting his new glass full of water down. "What? No, I didn't order that. No, sir, I'm positive. Perhaps you got the room numbers switched around? Wha-? No! No, she isn't my wife, and she didn't order the bloody cake to surprise me! You know what – just hold on, I'll be down to clear this up."

He put the phone back on the receiver with a little more force than was standard and grumbled. The sound of fading footsteps met her ears, but after a moment, it stopped. Hermione held her breath. What was he doing? Suddenly, an ice cold hand pressed against her forehead, and Malfoy sighed.

"Fever already gone down?" he whispered. "God, Granger, you sure know how to make a person worry."

Ten seconds later the door shut.

Hermione sat bolt-upright. "What was that?" she asked.

Nearly two weeks of absolutely _no _reaction to any of her various states of undress, and pretending to faint once caused him to actually _worry_? She would admit it – it wasn't about the mission for her, anymore. It had never been about the mission. She tried harder because he ignored her. She dressed more scantily because his eyes wandered less. If she was being honest, the real reason she was trying was because he had hurt her pride as a woman.

But today, she was going to succeed, even if it killed her.

Jumping up from the bed, she fumbled around in her damp robes and pulled out a tiny glass vial with a clear liquid inside. She uncorked it, stood over his water, and poured half of it in. The water shuddered a crimson for just a second before returning back to the clear, pure state it should be. Hermione paused, thought furiously, and tipped the other half in as well.

"If I'm going to do this," she said, "I have to do it thoroughly."

Hermione then undid half the buttons on her wet shirt, made sure her undergarments would be visible if a motivated individual were to look for them, hiked up her skirt so that the guarder of her stockings peaked through, and lastly laid back down on the bed in a position she found more attractive than the one she had been in previously.

Then, heart thudding, she waited.

… … …

Draco finally managed to send the confused delivery man away, although he had been forced to buy the cake he carried. He sighed, checking the clock on the wall of the inn's lobby. It was now six PM, and the sky was dark because of the storms.

He thought about why he was there, and sighed again. Damn Granger. What had been her problem the last few weeks, anyway? She couldn't have changed, so he could only conclude that he had. At first, meeting her again after all those years had been annoying. Granger was flaunting a bit, he noticed, probably proud that she had managed to snatch a membership to that elite club. He had found her awkward and completely unconvincing.

Then, they had run into each other again at the Weird Sister's concert. Her sudden fall had surprised him, but not as much as having her whole body press against him so defenselessly, as if she only trusted him. He had been scared of his heartbeat at that moment, so he decided to forget everything he had felt.

The problem was that the feeling kept coming back. The time he had walked into the robe shop to get his new ones hemmed, there she had been, back completely exposed for him to see, and she seemed completely unaware of this. At her invitation to get closer, he ran away.

He was forced to conclude that day that Hermione Granger was an attractive individual.

He still hated her – completely and wholly – but, a tiny voice in his head rationalized, men and women were different. The truth of the sexes was this: Women want commitment. Men want sex.

He was then forced to justify the fact that he wanted to touch her. But, although Granger said she was working as a journalist, there was still a possibility that she could have joined the Order of the Phoenix. Although they were not truly on opposite sides of the war, due to his lack of a trusted position in the Death Eater ranks, Draco knew that Hermione Granger was a definite no-no.

So, he thought, why the hell were they trapped in a hotel?

Draco shook his head, ridding himself of those thoughts and took the cake upstairs. Maybe he would wake Granger up so she could eat it. Because, so long as she was fully clothed, even if she was unconscious, he wouldn't do anything stupid.

What he found was completely different.

A/N:

Previous Chapter: The Fine Art of Scorning

Next Chapter: Into the Throes

I hope you enjoyed this installment! I would love to hear your honest opinions. Contact me via review or PM if you have questions. Look forward to chapter 4!

Panneler-san


	4. Into the Throes

A/N: There is a bit of language in this chapter, as well as some awkward hormonal stuff. Well, I hope you all enjoy chapter four of "The Infant Stratagem"!

Into the Throes

_Click_

Hermione froze.

The door groaned as it opened. She couldn't see, but she couldn't risk opening her eyes yet, not while he was so close. She waited. Several footsteps echoed across the wooden floor, and suddenly they halted. A large squishing noise, almost as if an elaborately decorated cake had been dropped, filled the silence.

"_Bloody_-!"

She heard a hand clap over his mouth as his words cut off. Then rapid footsteps moved past the bed and away from her. Hermione risked opening her eyes a little then, and saw that someone _had _in fact dropped a cake. Malfoy had strode straight over to the window, on the opposite side of the room. She looked back and forth between him and the water glass, inches from his hand.

Suddenly, Malfoy whirled around, and her eyes screwed tight shut. "Merlin, Granger!" he whispered furiously. "Really, what in Godric's name are you doing?"

She jumped on the chance, knowing that he was looking at her, and groaned, stretched, and rolled onto her back, one arm above her head and the other resting near her stomach. She felt her shirt pull a little lower, and cool air hit the skin on her chest.

Malfoy took a sharp breath. She cracked open an eye again, just in time to see him violently grab the glass of water and gulp it down savagely. A smile twisted her lips for a moment before returning to normal.

_That's right, Malfoy,_ Hermione thought. _Let's see if you can resist me now, hm? _

She distinctly heard him mumble, "Shower… I need a shower…"

The door to the bathroom clicked shut, and Hermione grinned. "Trying to distract yourself, Malfoy?" she murmured to herself. "Not today."

She was going to seduce him if it killed her.

As the sound of the shower being turned on and a loud exclamation of, "Why won't the cold water work? Shit!" from Malfoy, she didn't stop to think about what getting him to give in actually meant. Instead, she thought of her expert brewing skills, and how just about now Malfoy was going through some very difficult internal decisions…

… … …

The first thing he saw when he walked into the room was Granger's bra.

The cake in his hands exploded when it hit the floor.

_"Bloody-!"_

Remembering that she was sleeping and slightly ill, he clapped his hand over his mouth and silenced himself. His eyes were plastered to her face, but slowly they drifted back down to her gaping shirt. He was suddenly reminded of how, minutes ago, he admitted to himself that sex with her wouldn't be bad.

He needed to avoid this – she was sleeping, entirely unconscious, and sick to boot! No, _Granger _to boot! No matter what problems would arise from this, he had to ignore her. Quickly he strode over to the window – the furthest place from her – and fixed her gaze out of it. His mind raced with a million different thoughts, one of which was, _Does lust make you thirsty? _He wasn't sure.

But, lust? Merlin, had he gone insane? Or was it Granger that had? How had her shirt even gotten like that in the first place? She had to have done it herself. Maybe, because of her flash fever, she had gone mad, thought she was at home, alone, and unbuttoned the blouse because it was hot?

Filled with an uncontrollable need to know the truth, he turned sharply on his heel towards her sleeping form. "Merlin, Granger!" he whispered furiously. "Really, what in Godric's name are you doing?"

He must have been a little louder than he thought, because suddenly Granger groaned, freezing him to the spot. Then her arms stretched, and she rolled over, still asleep, the movement exposing so much of her skin that he could see a very not-Granger like lace trim around the bottom of the bra…

He inhaled sharply, trying to calm down when he realized he'd been staring. Then he stared some more.

_I'm definitely thirsty._

Remembering the glass of water he had poured himself earlier, before the fiasco with the confused deliveryman, he seized the vessel and chugged the whole thing. But, the water didn't have a calming effect on his burning insides – in fact, it only made him hotter as he imagined Granger drinking water as enthusiastically as he had, and it would drip down her throat and carve a pathway to the shadows under her shirt…

"Shower…" he mumbled. "I need a shower."

He almost slammed the door to the bathroom shut. Immediately he opened the window and inhaled the cold night air.

"Mental," he said. "I'm bloody mental."

He shed his clothes and twisted the shower knobs with more force than was necessary. After his thoughts had unwillingly wandered back into the room with the half-naked Granger, he couldn't stop himself from yelling, "Why won't the cold water work? Shit!"

Finally, it did work. The water took his mind off of their dilemma, and for ten wonderful minutes, he was blissfully ignorant. He turned off the water, dressed, and hummed a little as he toweled off his hair.

Suddenly, he had a problem.

What the hell was wrong with him, today?

Draco froze. Was this a joke? He hadn't even been _thinking_ about Granger – oh, now he _was _thinking about Granger. He forced his thoughts in another direction, and slowly, his problem was no longer an issue.

"Just don't look," he told himself. "Go out, move straight to the couch, fall asleep. Do not look."

He would be fine.

He had to be fine.

He opened the door, and now Granger's skirt had rode half-way up her thighs, and even from the other side of the room, he could see the curves and dips of her entire frame. Her shirt was barely clinging to her body.

"Aw, fuck!" he swore.

He moved, slowly and wincing slightly, to the sofa, keeping his eyes to himself. His ears picked up on the sound of Granger moaning in her sleep, and the rustle of the sheets as she rolled over again.

This was bad.

He held his breath. This usually did the trick within thirty seconds, but two minutes passed before he inhaled deeply, unable to do it any longer, and problem still present. What else could he do? He played Quidditch in his head, and imagined falling and swooping and diving from very high places, reaching out for the Snitch, dodging the Quaffle, but then suddenly his imaginary broom was hit with a Bludger, and he pictured himself falling, very hard, very fast-

He stood abruptly and swore. He was thirsty again. Where had he put the damn glass? It was by the window, empty. He got out his wand, but couldn't remember the incantation for conjuring water. His thoughts were too random, wild, and persistently sexual…

Damn, he needed water _now._

Then he spotted a pitcher full of it, resting on the night stand next to the bed.

Hermione watched Malfoy's proceedings with glee. Once she heard him holding his breath, she had smiled darkly and whispered to herself, "Fine, then. Let's see how long you can hold out."

By the time he had started muttering things about Quidditch, she looked on in pity.

"He can barely controlling himself," she murmured sympathetically. "That fertility potion really was well made…"

He stood suddenly, and she stared. He turned toward the water pitcher she had placed by the bed while he was in the shower, and his eyes locked on it. She had never seen him look so intently at anything before. Malfoy strode forward, glass in hand, and seized the pitcher.

He poured himself a glass, raised it to his lips, and drank deeply. Mid-swallow, his eyes shifted down to her face, with a curiosity that meant he couldn't help just one look.

She stared. "What are you doing?" she asked conversationally.

Malfoy choked on the water. "Uh," he said, voice unstable, "I was just…Er…"

Hermione sighed and reached up, grabbing his hand, and Malfoy went completely ridged. "Stop moving around and come here," she said. "I can't sleep. Just lie down and stay still."

She gave his hand a tug, and he was so shocked that he only resisted being pulled onto the bed in his mind. "Uh, but," he managed to push out.

She sighed, reached around his torso, and pushed his shoulders into the pillows. "Just sleep, hm?" she suggested, laying down next to him. She closed her eyes and pulled the collar of her blouse further away from her. "Oh, why's it so hot?" she murmured.

She could feel his eyes on her.

He was breathing hard, unable to look away. Did the crazy witch know what she was doing? A second longer of him staring at her while she was completely defenseless, and Draco would go mad. In fact, he was sure he already was.

_What is he doing? _Hermione asked in her head. _You have a chance, you idiot – take it now!_

Swiftly and suddenly, Malfoy rolled over on top of her, pressing his lips to her neck with enthusiasm.

She feigned a slight surprise. "M-Malfoy!" she said softly. "Malfoy, don't! Don't …do…"

She trailed off, rested her hands on his back, and smiled in triumph.

That fertility potion really _was_ well made.

… … …

They all jumped when there was a knock at the door. Harry, Mad-Eye, and McGonagall exchanged glances. Finally, Harry licked his lips and said, "I'll get it."

They all followed him to the front hall, anyway.

Harry threw open the door, pointing his wand straight at Hermione. "What was the first class you had at Hogwarts, third year?"

She answered, "Arithmancy _and _Charms."

He ushered her wordlessly inside. Moody, not wasting a second, grabbed the front of her robes and pulled her upstairs to Sirius's old room, the other two not a step behind. Once they were inside, the door shut, and the windows closed, Moody asked quietly, "Well?"

Harry and McGonagall looked at her apprehensively. Hermione looked back. Then, after a long moment of silence, she smiled.

The old Professor sighed in relief, and Harry grinned (although still looking uncomfortable), and Moody clapped her on the back. "Good job, Granger," he said gruffly. "You've worked hard."

She beamed.

"Are you okay?" asked Harry, taking a step forward.

She nodded. "I'm fine. I'm just glad the most difficult part is over."

"And now?" asked McGonagall. "Alastor, what do we do now?"

Moody looked thoughtfully back and forth between all of them, while his magical eye spun in circles before resting on Hermione's stomach. "We wait," he said.

"We wait," Hermione agreed.

"It'll take a few weeks before signs start showing," said McGonagall. "We mustn't get too excited, Miss Granger – I fear that was not the hard part. We still have to tell him in about a month,"

She nodded. "I suppose. I didn't really think of it."

"This'll work," Harry was mumbling under his breath, pacing back and forth. "This is going to work. We'll have Malfoy on our side, we'll win the war, this'll work. I'm sure."

"It'll work, Harry," Hermione assured him. "It'll work."

… … …

When Draco came back to his senses, he could tell something was wrong.

What could it be? He felt fine – great, really, better than he had in a long time. Well…he was a little warm. There were too many blankets on top of him. Not wanting to wake up just yet, he kicked off the top layer and nuzzled his face deeper into the pillow.

Suddenly, he was enveloped in a surreal sense of frigid cold. His eyes snapped open. He looked down at himself, paused, and then looked slowly to his right.

Except for him, the bed was empty. He felt numb, and memories rushed into his mind. There was a note on an untouched pillow, and he snatched it up, holding it close to his nose so he could read it. He really, truly wished that it had all just been a dream, that he had gone crazy while he was asleep. But, Draco knew he wasn't that lucky.

_Malfoy_

_ I've gone home first._

_ HG_

He stared.

He realized.

And then he swore.

A/N:

Previous Chapter: Hell Hath no Fury

Next Chapter: Abort! Abort! Abort!

I'd love a review : )

I want to thank everyone that has followed this story. I'm honestly quite surprised at the amount of people. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Look forward to more in about three or so days!

Panneler-san

(P.S. Just in case you didn't get the title for this chapter, the second hidden half is "of passion". Get it? "Into the Throes of Passion"? Troll :D )


	5. Abort! Abort! Abort!

A/N: This chapter turned out to be 10 pages! Wow!

Abort! Abort! Abort!

"Theo," Draco said, sounding like death itself, "I had sex with Granger."

Nott promptly spat his tea all over the blonde Malfoy's face. "_What?!_"

Draco wiped his face with the café's napkin. Nott seemed to realize what he'd done and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Er, sorry, Mate."

He said nothing.

"Are you serious?" Nott asked, glancing around at the other patrons, all of whom had stopped to stare at them. "You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"

The look on Draco's face told him that he wasn't.

Nott cleared his throat nervously, not quite sure what to say in this situation, and finally mumbled, "Really?"

Draco nodded.

"Merlin," whispered Nott. "How?"

"I don't know," Draco admitted. "I'm not sure what came over me – I was completely unlike myself, Theo… I ran into her loads over the last two weeks, and every time she seemed just a bit more… But anyway, my train stopped, it was raining, she had a fever, we rented out a room, some bloke delivered a cake that I hadn't ordered, and when I got back upstairs Granger was nearly nude, so I took a shower to calm down, but it just made it _worse _for some reason, and then when I saw her I just…I couldn't control myself."

Nott stared. "I didn't get half of that," he said. "Are you saying that Granger _let _you…Willingly?"

Draco shook his head. "I-I don't really remember. God, Theo, when I rolled on top of her…Even then I was sure I could stop, but then she said something like 'Malfoy, don't!' and I completely lost it." Suddenly, a horrified expression twisted his face. "I'm not even sure if she ever gave me the green light."

Nott put his tea down and stared at his panicking friend. "Did she hit you?" he asked quietly.

Numbly, Draco shook his head.

"Then, did she try to push you away at all? Scream at you to stop?"

Suddenly, he remembered her gripping his shirt and pulling him closer, wrapping her arms around his back, whispering breathy words of encouragement, pulling him deeper… Her groaned and put his head down onto the table. "She let me."

"Do you like her?"

His head snapped up. "Theodore, are you insane?" he asked loudly. "I don't like Granger! She was being super frustrating the last two weeks, I just had a moment of madness! I'm a man, you know! Sometimes there things have to be done!"

Nott scoffed and shrugged off the strange looks they were receiving. "If you knew you were just horny, then why did you act as if you thought you might like her?"

"Because it's strange!" he hissed. "No matter how…er…It's still Granger!"

"Is Granger a man?" asked Theo calmly. "If she was the only woman around while you had sex on your mind, then of course something was going to happen between you. Honestly, it takes two to do the deed. It sounds like Granger was just as horny as you."

Draco considered this. "Should I just forget it?" he whispered. "Pretend it didn't happen?"

Nott actually laughed. "Why do that?" he asked. "You shouldn't forget it."

The Malfoy boy bit his lip. "What do I say when we run into each other next time? We've been doing it so often…"

"Just smile," Nott advised, picking up his tea once more. "Who knows? Maybe if you're lucky you'll never have to see her again."

… … …

Out of nowhere, Hermione gasped.

Harry looked up from his letter to Ron and asked, "What?"

She turned her wide eyes on her raven-haired friend and said, "Harry – I had sex with Draco Malfoy!"

It had already been a week since the fact, and despite the terrible situation, Harry found himself trying to hide a smile. He blinked. "And?"

She looked horrified. "It's just," she said, "I didn't realize it…what I've done…what I'm doing…until now!"

Harry felt a sense of guilt envelop him. "Do you regret this?" he asked. "Taking up this mission?"

She said shrilly, "I don't know! I just…Merlin, Harry, I'm going to be _pregnant _with his _child_!"

"You might already be," he said. "I thought you knew what you were getting into."

She closed her book with a snap. "I hadn't thought about it," she said. "I was just so _mad _that he kept resisting me that I completely forgot about the rest of the mission, or even the sex itself-! All I could think of was getting him to give in!"

Harry rose from his chair and made his way over to her, enveloping her in a hug. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he whispered. "You must hate me for doing this to you."

"No," she responded angrily, and Harry felt a tear soak through his shirt. "I'm not mad at you. You and Moody and McGonagall told me exactly what I would be doing, and all I could think of was…Oh, Harry!"

He patted her back comfortingly, and even though she had denounced him as the fault of her situation, he still felt a terrible tightness clench in his gut.

"Oh, Harry, Hermione, good morning."

They broke apart quickly and saw Luna, walking gracefully through the door to the Tapestry room, an upside down book in her hands. Harry jumped at seeing her, and Hermione wondered frantically if she had heard what they had been talking about.

"Luna!" exclaimed Harry in a tone more surprised than Hermione would have expected him to have.

Luna smiled dreamily and said, "There's a Flaffulgaut on your head, Harry."

"Good morning, Luna," said Hermione. "When did you wake up?"

"Just now," said she. "I heard voices so I thought I'd come by and see who it was."

"Luna," Harry gasped, "Did…did you-? Um, uh…"

Hermione frowned. "Harry, are you alright?"

Without another word, Harry strode forward and grabbed Luna's hand. Hermione blinked in surprise. "We need to talk," he said seriously. "Let's take a walk."

What puzzled Hermione even more was when the girl pulled it from his grasp and said, "It's raining."

"Luna-!"  
A Patronus burst into the room, and all three young adults froze. It was a gigantic, silvery wolf that Hermione immediately recognized as Tonks's. It opened its mouth and spoke: _"Hogwarts is under attack – come immediately."_

Without another wasted moment, then bounded toward the door. Harry dashed up the stairs and seconds later came back down with Moody and McGonagall following close to his heels. His magical eye swiveling at an alarming rate, Moody began giving out orders.

"Granger," he barked, "Go alert everyone at Shell Cottage that they need to move to defend Hogwarts immediately. Lovegood, take everyone upstairs and move there after establishing a defense plan. Minerva, you stay here with Poppy and Potter and I will go there now and bring back anyone that's injured."

Luna vanished upstairs and Harry ran out the front door, disapperating with a _crack_. Hermione made ready to follow after him, but Moody grabbed her arm.

"No, wait, Granger," he barked. "You can't apparate."

She felt frustrated, and anxiety twisted in her stomach. "Why not?!" she yelled. "Professor, we've got to move now!"

"You _shouldn't _apparate," he said, and then she understood.

"Oh," she whispered, a hand flying unconsciously to her stomach. "But…we don't even know if I'm pregnant yet."

"Take the Floo," he ordered gruffly, and hauled her over to the kitchen fireplace.

"Alastor!" cried McGonagall, "She shouldn't go at all!"

"I'm fine," Hermione protested. "We have to go!"

"Listen, Granger," breathed Moody, "Only go to Shell Cottage. You can't get hurt. Only Shell Cottage, do you hear me?"

"Yes," she said, and Moody released her. She bounded forward, grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the small bowl on the countertop, and stepped into the flames crying, "Shell Cottage!"

It was raining by the sea, too. When she rolled onto the floor of the Cottage Kitchen, a very surprised Remus Lupin blinked at her in shock, a five-year old Teddy balanced on one knee.

"Hermione," he said. "I thought you were stationed at Grimmauld Place. What-"

"Death Eaters," she gasped, unable to speak because of the ash, "Hogwarts,"

Lupin was on his feet. "I'll tell the others."

She coughed as he ran to the other side of the house. Teddy watched her with big, apprehensive eyes and finally put a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione," he whispered, "Are you sick?"

"No, Teddy," she managed to gasp. "Just ash,"

Lupin bounded back into the kitchen with Zacharias Smith, Cho Chang, a wheezing Slughorn, and another Witch in black robes Hermione didn't know. Lupin spoke first. "Hermione," he said, "Apparate with Teddy back to Grimmauld place, will you? Take him to McGonagall or Madame Pomfrey, and then come join us at Hogwarts."

She kept the fact that she wasn't allowed to apparate a secret and said, "I'll be there as soon as I can. Tonks is waiting – Be careful!"

He nodded and ran out the front door, apparating in the rain. Zacharias Smith followed him with only a nod in her direction, as did the Witch she didn't know. Cho, however, paused to hug her fiercely, whispering into her ear, "I'll see you soon," before vanishing with them.

Hermione looked after the girl who had become her good friend, and then grabbed Teddy's hand. "We're going to use the Floo instead," she told him. Come on, let's go."

"Is mum okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Mum is fine," she told him, praying that his mother truly was fine. "Let's go."

When they appeared back in Grimmauld Place, Madame Pomfrey was turning the kitchen into a Hospital.

"I've brought Teddy," Hermione explained.

"Good, bring him to Minerva," she ordered. "Wait – no, leave him here. I'll need him to help me while you're gone."

With elation, Hermione realized that the old Healer had not been informed of Moody's orders for her to stay there. _I can fight. _"Teddy, stay with Poppy," she said, feeling the anticipation. "I've got to go help dad, mum, and Harry."

As she raced back to the fireplace, Madame Pomfrey stopped what she was doing and turned to face her. "Hermione Granger," she asked questioningly, "Why are you using the Floo instead of apparating?" But she was already gone.

Hermione rolled out of the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common room. Having inhaled more ash, coughs racked her body. When they finally died down, she secured her wand and dashed to the entrance and out into the hall.

Almost instantly she was hit by a purple jet of light.

"Merlin! Hermione, you scared me! Counter curse, counter curse…" George muttered a spell Hermione did not hear, and the hair that had started sprouting all over her body vanished. "I thought Death Eaters had gotten inside the Common room."

"No," she said, "I Flooed here. What's the situation?"

They began walking briskly side by side toward the nearest flight of stairs. "We've been able to keep all the Death Eaters on the first two floors," he told her. "Harry and Mad-Eye got here ten minutes ago, and that seemed to make them go back a bit."

"What about Shell Cottage?" Hermione asked nervously.

George shook his head. "I came straight here once Harry arrived. If Lupin and the others did get here, I haven't seen them."

"Back into the fray, then?" she asked, hoping to God that Moody wouldn't catch a glimpse of her and berate her for not following his instructions once the Castle was re-secured.

George grinned. "Back to the fray," he agreed, and they bounded down the steps.

Hogwarts was worse than they thought. As was usual for when the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts, Voldemort did not go with them. Hogwarts was the last outpost, the final stronghold. Hermione was horrified when they finally were able to fight their way to the first floor.

The Order was scattered, and among all the bodies she saw lying, horrifically dead, were familiar faces. She had underestimated the scale of the attack. She had thought it was just a small skirmish, but it was a battle.

She even thought, for just a moment, that this could be the final battle of the war.

_"Expelliarmus!" _ she screamed, and the wand of a masked man flew out of his hand.

Behind her, George shouted a curse that nearly missed her, making her wild hair move from the wind.

They were in a sea of masks. Hermione strained her eyes for a familiar face, someone she knew, anyone that could tell her she was having another nightmare about killing and dying and fighting. There was a loud boom near the open doors to the Great Hall. This distracted her long enough for the Death Eater she was fighting to lunge forward, wandless, and grab her by her neck.

She gasped for air, finding none, and winced when he shoved her roughly against the wall. Hermione fumbled for a firm grip on her wand so she could hex him, curse him, even kill him, but her mind was going blank. Her eyes desperately searched for George, and found him busy with three others. She scanned for Moody or Harry, Luna or Ginny, Neville or Cho, Lupin or Zacharias, but all she saw were bodies.

The man in the mask spoke. _"I remember you," _he wheezed, and dread pooled in Hermione's stomach. "You're that girl, the one that's friends with Potter."

His laugh sounded more like a howl. Hermione struggled then, and his grip intensified so much that he shoved her up the wall, her feet dangling inches from the stone floor. Everything started going black.

"I still regret not being able to take a bite," he whispered, and Hermione's wand clattered to the floor as the darkness took over.

… … …

"Wake up, Granger," barked Moody, and Hermione was fully alert in seconds.

"What?!" she yelled, sitting bolt upright and ignoring the persistent pounding in her skull. "Are we being attacked? Is Harry safe?" Her eyes adjusted to the brightness and she took in her surroundings sleepily. "Is – how – why am I in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing?" she asked.

Moody, sitting on the only vacant bed to her right, did not look pleased. "Slow down and think," he advised.

She slowed down. She thought.

Hogwarts had been attacked. She had gone to help. Hermione bit her lip. "Oh."

"Don't ask me any questions," ordered the Auror angrily. "I'll tell you everything you want to know. The Castle is safe."

She sighed in relief, feeling a huge weight lift from her entire being.

"Potter barely managed to nick you from the mad clutches of Fenrir Greyback," he continued. "Bastard got away. Potter let him, you see, because he was too worried about you."

She felt a strange sense of guilt.

"Had you pinned to a wall," he murmured. "You were unconscious when we got there. Potter was in hysterics, because Greyback said he'd bit you."

The blood drained from her face. Bit…?

"He didn't," Moody snapped. "Don't look so scared, you're safe. But you could have been bit, Granger. You could have been killed. I told you to stay put."

Her head hung in shame. "I'm sorry."

"Also, you managed to knock yourself out for a whole week," he said impassively, magic eye twisting. "That's a record. Not even that awkward Weasley bloke, Percy, was out that long when he got tangled up with Lestrange."

"A week?" she gasped. "Then…Me…Do you know about me yet?"

Both eyes snapped to her face. There was a pause. "Granger," growled Moody, "I was too impulsive. I was more focused on your mission than Hogwarts – look where that left us."

She blinked. "So?"

"So," he said, "I've reconsidered it. Under the circumstances, _all _of the circumstances, Minerva and Potter have agreed that it would be best to abort the mission."

She stared. "Abort…?"

"Abort."

She blinked again. "I know Hogwarts was attacked," she said. "I also know that it's bad."

"_Bad_?" asked Moody. "It's worse. If we get sidetracked like that one more time, Hogwarts might really be taken. The Order can't afford that, Granger, not after what happened last time. We need this school."

"What about me?" she asked quietly.

"What was that?"

"What about what I've already done?" she said, a little louder. "What about what can't be taken back?" Her hand flew to her stomach.

"Granger, I – "

"I can still do it," she said. "Don't let this go to waste, Professor, not after what I had to go through-! This matters! I don't need loads of help, I swear-!"

"Granger, will you shut up and listen to me?" he hissed. "Hogwarts is only part of the reason. That's only half! If we had the time, energy, and requirements to move forward with this, we would! But like I said, it's impossible now!"

"Why?" she asked. She felt sick, like something wasn't right. Something was very wrong. "What are we _lacking_?" she whispered.

In a flash, she recalled everything that had happened to her. The week of grueling and embarrassing training, the failed attempts at seduction, the exposure and indecency of it all, the shame… The future.

"You don't need to worry about finishing this one," he assured her. "Pretend it never happened. Be glad you won't have to finish this."

Still, her eyes demanded an explanation.

"I'll put this as simply as I can," he told her.

Her attention was rapt.

"Granger," he said, "You aren't pregnant."

She stared.

He stared back.

Intense relief filled her whole body. "Well," she sighed, "Thank _Merlin _for that."

Moody smirked. "I thought you'd be glad."

… … …

Draco was the furthest thing from glad.

"You're drooling," said Nott without looking up from his book.

Draco's jaw snapped shut as the back of his hand hastily wiped his mouth. "I'm not…" he mumbled, forcing all the memories out of his head.

"Still thinking about it, Mate?" asked the black-haired man. "It's been two weeks. Don't you think you should forget?"

Draco jumped on the chance to speak. "Theo," he said, "No matter how you look at it, isn't it just too strange?"

"What?" he groaned. "You know what? Never mind, don't tell me. I don't want to know. Why don't you avoid your dad at someone else's house?"

"I like it here," he defended.

"Go to another concert," whined Nott, "Or hang out at the pool, like you used to. Do something better than annoying me."

Immediately, the flesh-memory of Granger falling into his chest erupted in his skin.

"I know that look!" cried Nott, pointing an accusing finger. "You're thinking about her. Stop it!"

"I can't help it!" he cried back. "I haven't seen her at all since it happened. I-I, I don't know!"

"Mate," his friend sighed, "You can't think about her, the run-in's, or the sex for too long. It's unhealthy. You need a nice, Pureblood girlfriend. Or just dedicate your life to becoming a Death Eater."

"It was just a fluke, right?" Draco asked, disregarding Nott's comment completely. "There is no way that I would actually go at it with Granger if I was in my right mind."

"There isn't," he agreed. "Is that what you've been worried about this whole time? Was it just the fact that you did it with a Muggleborn?"

"Of course!" he said angrily. "If my father found out – God, Granger could have killed me!"

"You're acting like a bloody girl," Nott told him. "I'll bet Granger wrote this off as a mistake, a _one-time-thing_, and has already forgotten. And," he added, "I'll murder my Gran if she dared tell any of her friends. Granger might not be in the Order, but Potter sure as hell is, and you can bet that if she had told him he would already have come to your house to kill you. She wants it to be a secret just as much as you do, so stop _whining_."

Draco listened apprehensively. "Really?" he asked. "You really think it was just a mistake and that she's over it?"

"Really."

Draco felt a little better. If anyone ever found out about what happened between him and Granger, he would most certainly be killed. Whether first by Potter or the Dark Lord, death was imminent. But, if he said nothing, and neither did she, then everything would work out.

He relaxed, leaning back in his favorite chair in the house.

Nott rolled his eyes and, after wondering how long it would take Draco to start drooling this time, returned to his book.

A/N:

Previous Chapter: Into the Throes

Next Chapter: Interview with a Lollygagger

Yuuuup. She didn't get pregnant. And, remarkably, she's quite glad. Look forward to the next installment!

Feedback is appreciated!

Panneler-san


	6. Interview with a Lollygagger

A/N: New chapter :) Enjoy!

Interview with a Lollygagger

There was a slight chill in the air that had everyone wrapping up in coats and hats.

Not he.

Draco Malfoy was very, very warm.

Everything that happened with Granger was over, done, everything was fine, and he had no reason to think of it again.

…Still, he had thought he would run into her. He _expected_ it. But it didn't happen. He wasn't thinking about what had happened between them, oh no, but he couldn't forget any of it. Draco returned to the Club that he'd seen her in when their adventures began. He went there every night for two weeks, right at opening and he wouldn't leave until closing.

Granger never showed up.

He booked tickets to more Weird Sisters concerts, using the seating Granger had before as a reference for where she might prefer to sit.

She was never there.

He took many different trains to Leeds to see Nott, and always sat at the back, in the very last compartment.

Granger had vanished.

But, no, he wasn't thinking about it.

"I swear, Mate," cried the bartender for the Club, hours after closing, "We appreciate your business, but we'll have to call in someone if you keep lollygagging! The space in front of my pup isn't for standing in the wee hours of the morning!"

Draco snapped to attention. "Yes," he answered lamely, "I was just…leaving…"

The bartender shot him an exasperated look and vanished with a _crack_. Once he was gone, Draco groaned and ruffled his less-than-perfect hair in his hands.

"I'm mad," he whispered.

There was another crack, and suddenly Draco and the figure that had just apparated were pointing their wands right at the other's throat.

The stranger's eyes widened. "Draco."

He lowered his wand. "Mother."

"I'm glad I-" she began, then paused, shook her head, and instead said, "You're father is looking for you."

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "At this hour?"

She nodded stiffly at him. "Looking for you, of course. Where else would you be, at twilight? And," she added, peering around her tall son, "are you alone? You don't have anyone else with you?"

"I'm alone," he said. "No one else is here. Where is father?"

"At the Manor," she said. "You go along. I want to stop by to see your Aunt before I head home."

He tried not to cringe at the thought of how angry his Aunt would be when his mother woke her up. "I'll see you later, then," he said, and turned on the spot.

It was only after he'd apparated that the thought occurred to him that he'd never once mentioned the Club to Narcissa Malfoy.

… … …

"Sooo," sang Harry awkwardly once he and Hermione were alone in the kitchen, "Not pregnant, huh?"

She positively beamed. "Not even a little bit."

"Good, good," he muttered, absentmindedly scrubbing an imaginary plate in the sink.

Hermione noticed this with both disdain and humor.

"Sooo," he said again, "Mad-Eye said that we're not trying anymore. Is that right?"

She nodded. "There are too many reasons," she explained, even though he'd not asked. "Like, Malfoy will get suspicious if we keep trying after the first time. He may be a pompous ass, but he isn't thick. He's bound to notice."

Harry swallowed nervously. "Hermione," he said in a high voice, "I've just been doing some thinking, the last week while you were unconscious, you know, and I just wonder…Doesn't this mean that you and he…uh…you know…did _that_," he emphasized by looking away from her and turning red, "for…no reason at all? For no mission? I mean, not one that exists anymore, anyway."

The plate she was scrubbing broke in half.

Harry yelped and jumped back.

"If you don't mind," she whispered, fury dripping from her every syllable, "I'd like to not be reminded of that. Pass the soap."

"But, Hermione," he tried.

"_The soap, Harry_."

The rest of the dish washing followed in silence. Hermione retired to the room she shared with Ginny and Luna with a sigh. It was still only noon. Plopping down on the bed, her mind went wild.

She had realized it. Oh, had she realized it. Immense relief that she wasn't pregnant with Draco Malfoy's child had only led to further evidence that she had reason to expect, no matter how short the time, that she _could _have been pregnant with Draco Malfoy's child, which then led to the fact that, he she, in fact, became pregnant, it would have been for naught because of the current state of Hogwarts and the need for her to fight instead of prepare for motherhood…..

It all boiled down to one simple truth: she had gotten personal with Malfoy for no reason.

Of course, there was a reason, but not a lasting one, so it felt _real_. As if (dared she say?) she and Malfoy had been intimate of their own accord. Hermione whined and rolled over, burying her face into her pillow. If she ever ran into him again, she was going to die of embarrassment.

The _memories_, God, the memories… Every second, someone would do something, say something, or even breathe, and it would remind her of that night. Before the mission was stopped, it all felt very robotic to her. None of it mattered. It was just the motions of a plot.

Now it was the throes of reality.

Hermione (obviously) was not a virgin. However, she hadn't lost said virginity to Malfoy. She was a growing girl of twenty-three, for goodness's sake! She had been intimate before. But, she had never been so caught up over it.

Why?

Suddenly the answer struck her like a bolt of lightning.

"It's because it's Malfoy," she said out loud.

That was all there was to it.

… … …

Lucius Malfoy did not look pleased.

Draco gulped.

"You have been avoiding me," his father said.

He could come up with no clever response, so instead he opted to stay silent.

"It is of no matter," said Lucius, waving a gloved hand dismissively. "You are here now. I have a task of a…ah…different nature for you, today."

Draco prepared himself for the worst. What would it be today? Something to steal? Lies to spread? Someone to kill?

"An interview."

Draco stared.

Lucius smirked back. "With the Prophet."

"An interview?"

"They have requested that an ancient family Pureblood will interview with a Prophet writer and answer simple questions about Muggles," explained his father. "I have spoken with the Dark Lord, and he had granted his…permission for such an activity, on the condition that the interviewee be you."

He blinked again. "Oh."

Lucius looked back down at his paperwork. "It is set for this evening. This could be a perfect opportunity to lessen the fear that surrounds the Malfoy name. I will not have you slandering it, so keep your wits about you."

Draco headed for the door.

"Draco."

The young man stopped dead in his tracks.

"Where is your mother?"

"Visiting Aunt Bella," he replied, and left the room, oblivious to the strange look the older patriarch had etched across his face.

The garden that he was supposed to meet the interviewer at was small, and the floral smell was overpowering. He was zoning in and out, staring at the flowers in the bush in front of him and thinking that, if he tilted his head just right, the light made the roses look the same color of Granger's flushed cheeks.

A hand tapped his shoulder. "Excuse me? Are you the Pureblood here for the interview?"

He turned, and realized that, if he tilted his head just right, the light made the interviewer look just like "Granger!" he yelled, jumping completely off the bench.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Malfoy?! You're the-!"

Suddenly she cut off, and her face flushed a shade much darker than the roses. He was sure they matched.

After a long moment of silence, Hermione cleared her throat. "Er…Shall we…get started, then?"

He swallowed. "Yeah."

They sat, slightly turned towards each other, on the bench, and soon realized that this position required their knees to touch, so they ended up sitting staring straight ahead, side by side. It suited Draco fine – now they wouldn't have to look at each other.

"So," said Hermione.

"Go ahead and start," Draco said sharply, hoping to God that he sounded as arse-ish as he usually did.

"I'll just be using a preset list of questions," she said nervously. "And…You don't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you?"

What she had asked went completely over his head, and he said, "Yeah, use that."

From her bag she pulled a long, acid-green quill that reminded her most unpleasantly of a beetle Animagus, but it was the most efficient way to finish up her day job and get back to working for the Order late at night. "Then," she said, placing the quill's tip upright on a long piece of parchment, "We will begin."

The quill had already began writing. Draco only shifted, oblivious to the scratching noise, and stared straight ahead.

"This is Hermione Granger, Daily Prophet writer, here with…with Draco Malfoy, a man from a very well-known Pureblood family," she said as the quill moved vigorously. "Mr. Malfoy, thank you for taking the time to come out and answer our questions."

When he didn't speak, she nudged him in the ribs, and he said, "Yes."

She managed not to glare, and looked down at her notes. "Lately," she began anew, "Many of the Prophet's readers have sent in questions about Muggles, their lifestyles, and how they survive without the use of magic. We have compiled all these questions, and decided to ask one of our own kind, to-"

He snorted, and she ignored as best she could.

"-to answer them, as a sort of test. It should be very fun. Are you ready?"

"I already said yes!" he snapped, and instantly regretted it as the acid-green quill punctuated an 'I' so viciously it tore a hole through the parchment.

Hermione replaced it with a new one and continued. "There, here we go. Tell me, how many years do Muggles go to school?"

Draco answered, "Seven, of course."

Hermione bit her lip, hiding a smile. "Of course. What age do children begin attending school?"

"Eleven, Granger, don't you know that?"

"Can you name three of the subjects that Muggle students are required to study?"

His brow furrowed. "History. Uh…"

"Good, good," she said, and moved on. He clearly didn't know any more, and she could always change the question to "name one subject". The poor man was going to embarrass himself. "Name some of the main types of transportation for Muggles."

"Well, car," he said, eyes locked onto his feet. "And, trains."

"How do Muggles wash their dishes?" she asked next, going down the random list.

Draco frowned. "Well," he said, "They can't use magic, so…by hand?"

Her lips twitched. "Next, then. What is the name of the sport that Muggles watch most often?"

He thought and thought, but all he could come up with was that Muggles were so pitiful to not have Quidditch.

"We'll just skip that one for now, hm?" said Hermione. "What is a telephone?"

"It's like an owl," he answered quickly. "Only, you don't need to write letters to talk."

"How do Muggles duel?"

"With their fists?"

"No weapons?"

"Well, they don't have wands, do they?"

"Then, explain the British Government."

"Isn't there a King or something?"

"What's a 'telly'?"

"Slang for stomach."

Unable to hold back any longer, Hermione burst out laughing, much to Draco's surprise.

"What?" he asked the laughing girl. "Did I say something wrong?"

"The answers will come out with the article," she wheezed, clutching her sides and turning so she could see him. He stared back, affronted, which only made her laugh harder. "You'll have to wait! Ha, ha, ha!"

He stood. "Is it over?" he asked angrily.

"We could cut it short," she said, smiling hugely. "Thank you for your brief time, Mr. Malfoy."

The Quick-Quotes quill quivered, and fell quite dramatically. Draco noticed that it had filled out four full pages of parchment, and he wondered how it was possible to write that much on an interview that lasted ten minutes.

Hermione finally finished laughing. "Don't be too mad, Malfoy," she said, grinning from ear to ear. "You know more than most Wizards know. I was actually impressed."

He blinked cautiously. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Still," he said, "You laughed at me, Granger. No one laughs at a Malfoy."

"Of course not."

"You're laughing again!"

"I'm not!"

"_Stop it_!"

She giggled for five more minutes until her sides hurt and she began to get a head ache. "Okay. I promise I'm done."

He only scowled at her.

"I'm sorry," she added.

"Prove it," he snarled.

She blinked. "How, exactly?"

"You think of something," he grumbled.

"I could buy you a drink?" she suggested.

"Buy me two," he demanded immediately.

She answered with a grin.

… … …

"I'm saying!" Hermione whined, leaning against Draco just as heavily as he leaned against her, "I'm saying that you're rude!"

"I _know_, Granger," Draco slurred back. "And you're a know-not…er, I mean…a know-boat…a know-it-call…"

"A know-it-_all_, Malfoy," she said much louder than she was aware. "Don't you know simple things like this?"

They walked down a street, neither was sure which, barely able to stand, and every eye of every person sharing the footpath stared at them. Hermione's arm was wrapped around Draco's shoulder to support herself, and he had his own arm tight around her back to keep them from falling.

Which, they frequently discovered, didn't help much.

"I know," he replied indignantly. "I know more than you, anyway…"

"This is why you're rude!" She punctuated the last word with a jab of her finger. "You just say stuff, you know? You don't think about it. And you're impossible to seduce!"

"To what?" he asked, frowning.

"Nothing attracts you!" she explained. "Nothing. They think you're gay, you know."

All he heard was "gay". "I am not!" he yelled sloppily.

"If you don't want people thinking that you're gay, then respond to a woman's advances!" she advised. "No one would know, otherwise."

"_You _would know," he said. "You _do _know, actually."

"But _still_!" she said exasperatedly, nearly tripping over her own feet (or were they his?). "Nothing attracts you."

"Lots of things do!" he argued as they passed by a group of gossiping Witches.

"I tried sooo many things," she said. "Shorts…skirts…belly-shirts…camisoles…Nothing worked. Are you sure you like anything on a woman?"

"I do."

"Like what?"

He stopped abruptly and pointed at the group of Witches. "Like that."

She squinted in their direction. And then blinked in surprise. "Regrulerrobes?" she said very quickly. "Plain, old, cover-the-whole-body, long-sleeved black robes? No skin?"

"It's indecent," he explained, and walked again.

She tripped to keep up. "What's indecent?" she asked indignantly. "You can't even see those Witches' legs! Not a single person dressed that way back at Hogwarts!"

"I'm a Pureblood," he said. "I was raised to be attracted to different things."

"Whaaaat?" she sang. "What about Parkinson? She was _never _that covered."

"I felt uncomfortable around her, so we didn't stay together long."

"But," she urged, "You still _did _stuff with her, right? She had to attract you somehow with some skin. Right?"

She could have sworn that he blushed. "Pansy and I never did anything."

She only stared.

"I never did anything with anyone, if they attracted me or not," he said.

"That's not true," she accused. "You did stuff with me."

"Well," he mumbled, tightening his grip on her back, "That's why I'm so surprised…Because…you were my first."

Now her jaw dropped. "Youwerentavirgin?" she asked, words slurring together. "I mean, before you…with me…you were a virgin?"

"Don't you know anything about Purebloods, Granger?" he asked.

"I do!" she insisted. "I just thought that…You of all people would have had sex before."

"Do me a favor," he said. "Never wear traditional robes in front of me, got it? I'm confused enough as it is…"

Hermione tried to digest this information. But the alcohol they had consumed was starting to interrupt her rational thoughts. "Well," she said, "maybe."

"Maybe?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Maybe."

A/N:

Previous Chapter: Abort! Abort! Abort!

Next Chapter: Oops! I did it Again

Weeelll, that's that. I hope you enjoyed. Please drop in a review if you can. I'm not getting that much feedback, so I'm worried that it's bad… I don't write what's bad. Thank you!

Panneler-san


	7. Oops! I Did it Again

A/N: Weeeeelll, here you are, audience. Please enjoy your day : )

Oops! I Did it Again

Light, somewhere, made the back of her eyelids orange. Hermione groaned, not in the mood to wake up. She was tired, and her head was pounding, and she only knew that she had drank too much the night before...

The night... Before?

Her eyes snapped open. She was staring straight at a ceiling that was tinged a hideous shade of pink. Where could she be?

Taking a breath, she looked to her right. No one was there, and she had a clear view of the floor.

...Where she then saw her discarded underwear. Hermione blinked. Suddenly, a hand hit her stomach on top of the blankets, and she shrieked.

Malfoy groaned. She twisted her head to look at him so quickly that her neck screamed in protest. "Merlin!" she exclaimed, her nose right in the blonde's face, "God! Buddha! Satan! Please, please, please don't let this be real!"

Malfoy was naked. What was worse? She was, too. He stirred again, and in desperation Hermione snapped her eyes shut.

I'm sleeping, she thought. I am completely unconscious.

His groans of protest died down, and his breathing resumed at a steady pace.

"God!" she exclaimed once the scary moment had passed. "You really know how to drive me crazy, Malfoy." Her eyes flew open again. "But," Hermione then mumbled, "Where the hell are we?"

She surveyed the scene. Wherever she was, it was obvious that they had stayed the night in a hotel. From the door, she saw trails of clothing that led to where she now resided on the bed, and one particular price of her discarded ensemble caught her eye.

Plain. Black. Long sleeved. Floor-length.

Regular, no, _modest_ robes.

The blood drained from her face as the memories flooded back.

Somehow, and she still wasn't sure how, they had arrived here. Drunk. Judgment impaired. And she, clad in those robes. After that, the rest was history. She distinctly remembered that slowly removing her clothing had been involved...

Hermione gasped. She had given drunk Malfoy a strip-tease. And then, they...

"Oh, no!" _Oops_. "I did it again!"

Malfoy groaned and rolled over.

_I'll never drink again._

She needed to leave, and fast. Not giving herself a single second to consider a calmer course of action, Hermione leapt from the bed, seized her clothing, and dashed into the bathroom. Haphazardly throwing on random garments, her face turned a bright red.

Last time had been in vain, even though it was for a mission.

This time, the intimacies between her and Draco Malfoy were consensual.

And – dared she think? – voluntary.

Fully clothed, but with hair that vaguely resembled a bush, Hermione apparated and, with a crack, vanished.

… … …

As soon as Granger apparated, Draco sat bolt-upright. "Oh, God!" he cried. "I thought my heart was going to explode!"

Pretending to be asleep was the best decision he'd ever made. Draco hit his chest with his palm to calm his bounding heart, which had been beating nonstop in trepidation ever since he'd woken up – an hour ago. Now that she was gone, he could finally express himself.

"Okay," he said into the still air. "This has happened twice."

There was a reason. There _had _to be a reason. Why would he – a Malfoy – sleep with the same woman twice? Granted, he allowed himself the fact that the second time he was drunk, but still… Up until just a few weeks ago, he'd never slept with anyone.

Malfoy's weren't supposed to.

So, why…?

"I'll have to keep an eye on her," he mumbled.

Granger was too strange. Draco took his time getting dressed, noting (with flushed cheeks) the disarray of the room they had rented in their drunken stupor. His mind raced. Where did he go from here on out? Just back home?

"Definitely not."

He wasn't sure if he could hold a straight face in front of his parents after this. His mother had always been quite adept at sensing when he'd done something wrong, and if she knew, his father was sure to find out soon afterward…

If his family knew he'd slept with a Mudblood, he'd be killed.

Draco gulped. It was best to avoid home for now, he decided.

Should he go to Nott's? He pictured his friend's shocked face the first time he had told him about his escapade with Granger. Nott had been understanding, but entirely smug. Draco wasn't sure if he could take looking at his face again. But he couldn't just not express his troubles!

Draco groaned and shook his head back and forth. Either way, he was dead. Granger had killed him. She hadn't left a note, this time. In her panicked rush, he hadn't expected her to. But still… _What does she think about us? _He asked himself.

Was she mad? Just as shocked as he? Secretly glad?

"What does this mean?!" he snarled, and the birds roosting in the tree outside the window took off in a fright.

He was back at the beginning.

… … …

"Hermione, where were you last night?" asked Harry over lunch.

She choked.

"You were supposed to come back after your part-time, but you didn't. We were worried."

"O-oh," she said, wiping her face with her napkin. "I just, uh, decided to spend the night out. By myself! You know, it was late, and I didn't really want to apparate that late and far…"

He stared, but questioned no more. "We need to go take the next shift at Hogwarts, when you're done eating."

She nodded. "Let's go now."

One Floo trip later they stood in the Great Hall. A group of people stood huddled around one of the tables, shooting dark looks at each other and murmuring quietly. She recognized her old Professor sitting with a forlorn expression on her wrinkled face.

"What'dyou suppose is eating them?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, but I'm worried," she said. "We should find out."

McGonagall spotted them on their way over. "Oh, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, it's good that you've come," she said. Some of the crowd turned to see them and parted to let them through.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry.

"It's simply dreadful," McGonagall groaned. "A tragedy has befallen the Order."

Hermione felt her throat tighten. "Is someone dead?" she whispered.

No one answered.

"Is it Ron?" she asked a little louder.

"No, No," sighed McGonagall. "Mr. Weasley is fine. But yes, I'm afraid that someone has left us."

Harry looked like death itself. "What happened?" he asked. "Who was it?"

McGonagall looked down. "Parvati Patil."

Hermione felt her blood run cold. Somewhere in the crowd of nameless faces, someone sobbed.

"What happened?"

"It's such a tragic story," McGonagall said. "Miss Patil…was involved in a relationship with a Death Eater."

Harry inhaled sharply. Hermione felt her eyes widen. "And?" she pressed quietly.

"She was with child," whispered the old Professor. "Voldemort discovered it…and killed them both. She, the child, and the Death Eater."

Harry sat down.

She stared at the Professor. "Parvati was pregnant?" she asked.

McGonagall grimaced. "I'm afraid so."

They shared a glance, worried, frightened, filled with grief, that said they had nearly made a huge mistake; it had almost been her. Distraught because of Parvati, Hermione left without another word. The rest of the day she spent patrolling Hogwarts, but her heart wasn't in it.

How many more would die before the war ended?

She hardly knew.

… … …

"Dead?" asked Draco.

Nott nodded.

"You're sure? You're sure, Theo?"

"My dad told me he saw it," he admitted. "Flint is dead. So is Patil and their…"

"Dead?" Draco echoed.

He hardly believed what Nott was telling him. Flint, his old Quidditch captain, involved in a relationship with a member of the Order? And now, both were gone…

"Whatever you do, Draco," said Nott, "Don't meet Granger again. Don't tell anyone else what you've told me, and don't-"

"I did it again," he blurted out.

Nott choked on his tea. "W-what? Again? _Again, Draco?!_"

"It was two weeks ago."

"_Two whole weeks and you haven't told me?!_"

"We were drunk," he explained in a rush.

"Listen to me!" Nott ordered, placing his tea down. "You can't see her again. If the Dark Lord hears about this, he'll kill you both!"

"I know," he murmured. "I know that, but…"

Nott stared. "Draco. Do you actually like her?"

"No!"

"You've had sex with her twice."

"I don't like her!" he yelled. "But I…I do…care…about her."

His friend shook his head. "You're finished, mate. Granger's killed you."

Draco hung his head. "What do I do?"

"Swear to secrecy," he said. "Never speak of this to anyone. Merlin, I'll be killed, too, if the Dark Lord discovers I was hiding it!"

"She might not be in the Order," Draco rationalized. "There might be no reason to worry!"

"Are you thick?" Nott asked harshly. "Of course she's in the Order! That stupid Prophet job isn't fooling anyone!"

Draco sighed. "I know."

"Stop meeting her, mate," said Nott, "Or you'll really die. I'm serious. Granger is off limits."

Despite the logic of his best mate's words and the wisdom involved in this choice, Draco could already feel himself falling. Finally, he decided that the only way he could have slept with Granger twice was if he was attracted to her.

And not just physically.

"It's a secret," he agreed, ignoring the strange look Nott gave him at the double meaning behind his words.

Merlin, he was in trouble.

… … …

_Dear Ron,_

_ How is Norberta? Has her egg hatched yet? Hagrid will be happy. I hope that you're staying out of trouble. You're not in Romania to goof off, you know. I'm fine here at Grimmauld Place. Since the last attack on Hogwarts about a month ago, it's been tough to have constant security, but we've managed quite well. Make sure that you don't skip any meals – Your mum will have a duck if you get any skinnier. And about Parvati; we're all very sad, especially Padma. Harry is more quiet than ever, and I think he misses you. Do you think you could talk to Bill and Charley about visiting sometime soon? Just give me the word and I can set up a portkey for you. If you're busy, though, don't come, Ron, because you need to attend to your duties first and foremost. To be honest, I'm a little worried. I miss you, too. It feels like ages since we were last together. But, I really am fine. In fact, I feel great!_

Hermione paused in her letter to rush to the loo and empty the contents of her stomach. Alerted by the sound of retching, Ginny popped her head in, looking very green herself.

"Hey, Hermione," she said weakly. "I guess that bad stew's finally got to you, too, huh?"

Hermione was sick just remembering it.

"My mum won't stop apologizing," continued Ginny. "The whole of Grimmauld place is re-tasting their dinner. Harry's still at it – it's been on and off since yesterday for him."

Hermione coughed, throat cleared. "What did your mum put in that stew, anyway?" she asked.

Ginny's face darkened. "I think the potatoes were rotten."

"And she didn't notice?"

"She's been distracted," explained the red-head. "We all have."

The whole population of Grimmauld Place was sick with food poisoning. Molly Weasley had only ever made one or two bad meals in the many years Hermione had known her, but none of them had caused such a ruckus as the stew.

It had a funky taste, but they all thought none the wiser, and continued to consume. Hermione groaned and hunched over the toilet again. "Go tell Professor Moody that Shell Cottage will have to do the Hogwarts shift, tonight," she said to Ginny. "Seeing as none of us can move."

"It's been a whole month since then," Ginny groaned. "Do we still need the tight security?"

Hermione's stomach lurched, and she looked back into the toilet. "Did George feed us Puking Pastys?"

"If he did, I'll kill him myself."

Ginny left, and Hermione's stomach finally returned to normal. In no mood to finish Ron's letter, she sighed, rinsed out her mouth, and set out in search of Harry. If he was still poisoned by those damn potatoes, then he would be in the loo as well.

As Hermione neared the boy's room, she wondered if George really _had _slipped a Puking Pasty into the stew. Poor Harry…

"…don't want to talk about it, Harry."

"Listen, I…"

She froze. Hand on the knob to the bathroom, voices, rushed and quiet, tickled her ears. She listened.

"…think I don't know that?"

"I know you do, Luna, I just…"

Luna. And Harry? Hermione blinked. Were they _arguing_?

"Harry, you've got to make a choice," Luna said.

There was a pause. "I know."

"You can't do this."

"I know."

"And?" Luna prompted. "Your choice is?"

"I," whispered Harry, and Hermione pressed her ear against the door to channel the sound better, "I just want it to be…as we discussed."

Silence. Then, "You can't even say it. I don't believe you."

"It's difficult, right now!" he protested. "Even since Parvati was killed, no one has wanted to do anything! Do you think now is a good time for this?"

"I'm scared, Harry," Luna admitted, and Hermione blinked in surprise. "I'm scared that someone else will die, soon. I'm scared that it might be me. I'm scared that it might be you."

"…Luna…"

There was a sniff. "What if you die?" she asked. "What if we lose this war, and we can't be together?"

"Luna, I _do _want to marry you, and I will!"

Hermione became very aware that she was intruding on a very private moment, and stumbled away before she would say or do something that would embarrass all three of them.

Her mind reeled.

Luna? And Harry? Since when had they been together? Or, when had the attraction even began? There hadn't even been clues! Hermione paused, out in the middle of the hallway, in front of Mrs. Black's portrait, as realization hit her like a brick.

There _had _been clues.

She recalled Luna's expression as Harry had explained the plan to them – she had looked downright terrified. Her eyes, Hermione remembered, kept looking back at Harry after she had chosen the spoon.

Harry, too, had looked nearly dead when Luna had been selected. His eyes stopped shining, and his lips had parted in shock. Had Luna picked first on purpose, to have a better chance?

Also, there had been the day Hogwarts was attacked. Harry had wanted to talk to her, but she only pulled away. Had it been because she was mad that Harry had spent more time with she, Hermione, because of the mission?

Luna's memories had been wiped, that much Hermione knew. Still, if she and Harry really were together, she would have noticed if he tried to keep a secret. And, because Harry couldn't tell her, they began arguing…

Hermione got a headache just from thinking about it, and frowned.

What about Ginny?

Hermione groaned. She knew that Ginny still fancied Harry. Until today, she had thought that Harry fancied Ginny. And now he and Luna were talking about marriage…

Her stomach lurched, and Hermione cursed that damn stew as she ran off to a toilet.

She really did have bigger things to worry about.

A/N:

Pervious Chapter: Interview with a Lollygagger

Next Chapter: Inducing an Epistaxis

This had more to it, originally, but it broke the flow of the chapter, so I just put it in the next one. I hope you enjoyed! Thanks to all the reviewers! I won't lie: I'm a review whore. I will give you imaginary cookies and imaginary Orange Julius (lactose free!) if you review.

Thanks!

Pan-tan


	8. Inducing an Epistaxis

A/N: Sorry about the long wait ;) I'm back!

Inducing an Epistaxis

Hermione had become very aware of Harry and Luna's relationship. Every second she saw them together, she wondered how she hadn't realized it before; their hands would brush under the dinner table when she reached down to grab a lost fork, Harry's eyes would linger on her as she laughed with Ginny, Luna would smile warmly, unlike her usual mystified smile, in the black-haired boy's direction.

They were really in love.

"Granger," barked Moody, "Come here."

Her eyes snapped from the secret couple. "Yes?" she asked.

The old Auror stared unblinkingly at her. "I have a very important mission for you, today."

She snapped to attention. "What is it?"

He pointed a grubby finger at her. "Go buy groceries."

She blinked. "Really?"

He nodded. "Molly's refused to cook. Just because of that one stupid dinner, she thinks she's going to kill us all. We're out of food, too, and we can't ask Remus to cook for the whole Order. So, go, buy food, and make us something."

Her face paled. "I can't cook."

"It's just like potions," he snorted.

"I have the night shift at Hogwarts," she argued.

"Dinner is at six, not nine."

"I don't-"

"Merlin, Granger!" he barked. "Just go!"

Four minutes later she was standing in a deserted Diagon Alley. Hardly anyone came to the once-busy streets to shop. It had mostly closed down, save for one or two stores that operated in secret. She wrapped her thin jacket closer around her and sighed as she hurried down the alley.

The place Molly bought food was small, outdoor, and very cheap. The vendor was a witch so old, her wrinkles had wrinkles. She was hard of hearing, too, and as Hermione explained that she needed some vegetables as well as some fish, the woman replied, "How nice."

Sever other customers, covering their faces and rushing to purchase their food and leave, hobbled around the different stands of fruits and vegetables. Hermione took her time examining the potatoes.

She refused to buy more rotten ones.

A hand tapped her shoulder. She turned.

Draco Malfoy was grinning at her. "Morning, Granger," he said brightly.

She blinked. "I'm hallucinating."

He smiled brighter. "Shopping?"

Dear God, he was really there. Her face erupted like a volcano. "M-Malfoy!" she squeaked.

"We're sure running into each other a lot, aren't we?"

Was it possible to get any redder? Numbly, she nodded.

He knew he shouldn't have walked up to her. Draco knew that he had promised Nott to avoid meeting her, but as he had walked to Knockturn Alley and seen her bushy hair, he just couldn't stop himself.

Something had roared in his chest, seized his heart. He was really glad to see her.

"What are you buying?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Granger said stiffly, "Just things for dinner."

He was suddenly reminded of how perfectly she had fit in his arms, and his smile became timid. He had reached the conclusion that it wasn't just him – Granger must like him too, even if it was just a little. He beamed at the thought. "Do you want to get some coffee with me?" he asked. "It's getting colder outside."

Slowly, she nodded.

Hermione abandoned her shopping. Malfoy was being rather strange, and she felt nervous about it. All her instincts were telling her to run away from him. They shouldn't be seen together! And yet, the pale man walked right down the middle of the street, head high, with her bumbling in tow.

There was a small tea shop still open. They were the only patrons, and once the owner had supplied them with their drinks, he vanished.

She sipped silently.

"Granger," said Malfoy, making her jump, "It's been a while."

She swallowed hard. "I guess," she mumbled.

"Three weeks," he embellished.

"Hm."

"I've been thinking," he said.

She eyes him suspiciously. What was going on?

"I'm going to be blunt," he warned her, staring straight into her eyes. "We've had sex twice."

She choked.

He patted her back casually. "Even though we were drunk the last time, I remember what I told you. You really were my first."

She stared in horror. What was he doing?"

"I really do fine modest Witches attractive," he admitted next. "I was raised differently from you and even other Wizard families. We value things like modesty and waiting until marriage. So, I've been thinking," he said again. "Why would I do things like that with you if I had been raised differently all my life?"

Was this a nightmare? Was she dreaming? Was he really about to say what she thought he was going to say? Hermione stared in horror.

Draco gulped. Now was the moment. Was he going to die if he told Hermione what he was thinking?

He didn't know.

He found he didn't care.

"Granger," he said, looking sharply into her eyes, "I think I like you."

Hermione punched him in the face.

The chair toppled over as he fell, and the fiery young woman jumped to her feet. "Who asked you to like me?!" she screamed.

Draco felt his heart fall. "I-!" he yelled, "I was joking! Merlin, Granger, that hurt! Why would I like you?!"

She pointed an accusing finger at him. "Don't you dare lie like that again!" she warned. "Yes – we've been intimate. Twice! That does not mean that we will _ever _like each other!"

He got to his feet and tried to hide his hurt and confusion. "Of course not!" he yelled back. "God, I was just messing with you. Don't take everything so seriously. As if I would ever like you!"

"That's right!" she hissed. "We aren't lovers. We aren't even friends! We're just two people that have been involved in many unfortunate and repetitive situations!"

"We're not even related," he sniffed. "In any way. It's like you said – we have no relationship!"

"We should-" Hermione suddenly cut off.

Draco frowned. "Granger?"

She looked green.

"Are you okay?"

She glared at him. "I'm fine," she snapped. "I just…Anyway, don't you dare joke like that next time we meet!"

His heart skipped a beat. Next time? So they would meet again?

"I have to finish my shopping," she mumbled.

He pushed his luck. "At least finish your coffee before you go," he insisted.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Fine."

They sat back down.

"…You have a nosebleed," said Hermione.

As she spoke, he felt the warm liquid run down his rose. The café's napkin was pressed firmly against his face by Hermione, who looked a little guilty. "I guess I do," he said.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "You just surprised me."

"Do you always punch people when you're angry?" he asked. "This isn't the first time we've done this."

"I'm feeling a strong sense of Déjà vu right now," she admitted, a small twinkle in her eyes.

For a moment, they grinned at each other, reminiscing on their early years at school, before the war, before Voldemort, even. Before all the death.

Hermione pressed the napkin a little tighten against his nose. "Granger," said Draco quietly, "You're a witch, aren't you?"

She blinked. "Sorry?"

"You have a wand," he pointed out. "You _have _been trained to use it, haven't you?"

Realization dawned on her face, and she flushed scarlet, pulling away. "O-oh! Yes, of course! Sorry, sorry – _episky _. There, it's fixed."

An awkward silence settled over their table. In the quiet, Hermione found, much to her surprise, that her heart was bounding a mile a minute. Startled by this revelation, her eyes snapped to Malfoy, and he was staring right back.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head, feeling sick.

He regarded her calmly. "Granger," he said slowly, "Hear me out. I have a…confession."

She snorted. "If it's anything like your last confession, I'm gone!"

"No, no," he said quickly, "It's not that."

She frowned. "Then, what is it?"

"You and I," he began, never blinking once, "Don't you think it's strange at all?"

She was truly puzzled. "What is?"

"Our relationship," he expanded. "I mean, sex aside, we're too…calm."

Hermione sipped her drink. "Example?"

"For starters," he began, "It's been years since we've seen each other. We weren't exactly the best of friends in school. Let's be honest; you were a know-it-all, and I was an egotistical bastard."

"At least you know."

"I mean it when I say that I honestly hated you," he admitted, ignoring her comment completely, "But you see, ever since we've been seeing each other lately, I…hardly remember that hate."

She stilled.

"Granger," said Malfoy, "Let's stop being enemies. Let's start over."

Hermione frowned. "Start over?" she murmured. "As what? You're not going to ask me to be your fuck-buddy, are you?"

He grinned then, and the genuine look on his face made her bounding heart get faster. "I was thinking we could start as friends," he said.

_ "You don't need to worry about finishing this one," Moody assured her. "Pretend it never happened."_

_ "Miss Patil…was involved in a relationship with a Death Eater."_

Hermione was nothing short of tempted. Friends…with Malfoy?

It was true; they _had_ been different. They were clearly no longer enemies, so what were they?

Friends?

"Okay, Malfoy," she responded slowly. So long as no one found out, it would be fine, right? "Let's try it." She smiled. "Friend."

They finished their drinks in comfortable silence.

… … …

Dinner that night at Grimmauld Place was a happy affair; Molly, it seemed, was quite cured of her small food poisoning scare, and whipped up dessert to follow Hermione's meal. Ginny laughed and told jokes of how funny Neville had been acting during her Hogwarts shift, and it had everybody laughing.

Hermione kept a close eye on Harry and Luna. They really _were _being obvious about it, she thought. How was it possible that no one else had noticed? But, as Hermione surveyed the rest of the dinner guests, she realized why.

No one was really paying attention to anyone else. McGonagall and Moody were having a hushed conversation at the head of the table. Neville, likewise, was laughing along with Ginny, but seemed occupied by something entirely his own. His brow was creased. Although Madame Pomfrey was scolding Slughorn for something he had done wrong, the old woman's heart wasn't in it.

Everyone, she realized, was worried about something. No one had time for anyone else. No one had time for romance. Suddenly, the reason Harry and Luna were keeping their love a secret made perfect sense to her. They would scorn them for it. It had nothing to do with not hurting Ginny's feelings.

Hermione stood. "I'm going to visit Shell Cottage before my shift," she announced.

Only Molly acknowledged her statement. "Okay, dear," she said distractedly, not even looking up.

Hermione stared at her friends. How long had it been like this? Had she, too, acted worried all the time, with no moments to spare to keep the warmth of unity among them?

As she went outside to apparate to Shell Cottage, she realized that she had never felt so cold.

... … …

"Hermione," said Remus in surprise. "What brings you here? Aren't you due for a shift tonight?"

"Hullo, Professor," she said, nodding politely. "Um…Is Cho here?"

He blinked. "She's upstairs, I think."

A small face appeared behind the man's leg. "Hi, Hermione," said a smiling Teddy.

She smiled back. "Hi, Teddy. Thank you, Professor."

She reached the upper level of the Cottage and knocked on the door that led to Cho's room. It opened slowly. "Hermione?" asked the surprised woman.

She smiled. "Hi, Cho. Can you talk for a minute?"

They sat down on either side of the small desk, and Cho shut the door behind them with a flick of her wand. "What's up?"

"I just haven't seen you in a while," Hermione said. "You know – like this."

"Well, we've all been busy," the Asian girl laughed.

Hermione fidgeted. "I have a question to ask you," she confessed.

"And it is?"

"Just assume," she began, "That there are two groups of people."

She nodded. "Got it."

"Two individuals from separate groups have been meeting, but something bad happened to their friends when they met," Hermione continued. "So, now the two groups are on really bad terms."

Cho tilted her head. "And how does the story end?"

"They want to become friends," Hermione explained, "Or, at least, they don't want to be enemies. They feel…nice when they're together. There's warmth that they don't get with their other friends. So, they want to keep meeting. But to do so, they have to keep it secret from their groups. Cho, if it was you…what would you do?"

Her eyes sparkled. "Are you writing a novel, Hermione?" she asked teasingly. "Of course, it all depends on who and what is going on. But in this case, I would keep seeing that friend."

Her heart skipped a beat. "You would?"

"Of course! Especially if they were the only one I felt comfortable around."

Did she want to be friends with Malfoy?

Hermione thanked Cho for their talk, said goodbye to Remus and Teddy, and apparated to the Forbidden Forest to begin her walk to Hogwarts. As she thought and thought, she finally came to a conclusion.

Yes.

Yes, she _did_ want to be friends with that arrogant, egotistical, shockingly blonde ass.

She wanted to very much.

A/N:

Previous Chapter: Oops! I Did it Again

Next Chapter: The Infant Stratagem

Sooo, sorry for the wait, again. I should be able to update more often :)

If you have any comments, suggestions, or requests, please feel free to write a review or a PM.


	9. The Infant Stratagem

A/N: Here's the next installment. Enjoy!

The Infant Stratagem

Never before had Hermione felt so tired. Between her shifts guarding Hogwarts, Hogsmead, and Grimmauld Place, she had no time for herself. Cho's advice had sunk in deep; she had decided to throw all caution to the winds, give up on fighting her desire to be friends, and to give in and meet up with Malfoy.

Of course, she had made that resolution two weeks ago, but hadn't heard from him since the market. She was swamped with work, both her journaling and with the Order. It was nearly noon, and she felt if she took a single step more, she would collapse.

Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room and spotted her sitting in their old chairs, by the empty fireplace. He smiled. "Hermione!"

She jumped. "What?!" Her head swung around. She relaxed. "Oh, it's you, Harry."

He frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Hermione looked back at the wall. "Too many things are wrong," she said. "Guarding…tailing…cooking…I don't have any time to sleep."

"Why don't you go back to Grimmauld place for today?" he asked. "I'll call Percy to take your place here."

Hermione sighed with relief. "Oh, Harry, thank you! I thought I was going to die!"

She brushed herself off and headed to the portrait hole. "I'll see you around dinner, then," she said, and waved goodbye.

"Sleep loads, Hermione!" Harry called after her. "And be careful when you apparate!"

She trudged out of the castle and past the gates, all the way to the apparating point. Just the thought of spinning made her feel sick, but this was how she had to travel. With a resigned sigh, and turned on the spot.

Grimmauld Place spun into sight, and her vision cleared. But just a moment later, the sick feeling overcame her. Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth and rushed toward the door. Moody must have seen her coming, because he opened the door before she ever reached the steps and, pointing his wand at her, said, "What was the fifth thing I told you before the battle of Ho-"

She rushed past him, deaf to his low, angry growl, and into the first bathroom on the main floor. The bile rose from her throat and into the toilet bowl. She coughed and gasped, kneeling on the stone cold floor. Moody appeared behind her quicker than she could blink.

"What's wrong?" he barked. "Are you sick, Granger?"

She held up a hand, and choked a little, trying in vain to both steady herself against the toilet and hold her hair out of the way. Moody stared at her, his magical eye swiveling left and right like a comet. He vanished, and clunked back moments later from the kitchen, a glass of water in his scarred hands.

"Drink this," he ordered gruffly.

She took it and gulped it down gratefully.

Moody suddenly said, "Don't apparate, Granger."

She took a breath. "Huh?"

"You have apparition sickness, you dolt," he explained. "Apparating here and there, with your schedule for rounds, I'm surprised you didn't barf sooner. Stop it for a while. And Granger," he added, "Go sleep at your flat for a few days. You're supposed to be undercover, remember?"

"O-okay," she said, and flushed the toilet. For a moment, Moody's magic eye stilled over her, but then it swiveled away.

"That's an order," he growled, and trotted off, dragging his bad leg with him.

At midnight, a black owl screeched outside her window. Hermione sat bolt-upright. The owl's eyes reflected the half moon. It held out its tiny leg, and she saw a letter flutter in the wind. After she fed the owl some of Crookshank's food (she didn't have any owl treats, and she didn't want to bother her neighbor) it took off, and she tore open the seal. Her heart was pounding.

_Hello, Granger._

She held her breath.

_We should meet up soon, like we promised. It'll be odd starting a friendship this long after we've known each other, but we might as well start now, don't you think? Meet me tomorrow in Diagon Alley. We'll have lunch._

_ Malfoy_

She was suddenly struck with an idea. The idea was so terrifyingly shocking, that she felt like she'd been slapped. Hermione looked around her small flat that Harry had helped her buy when she became a "journalist". She spent less than one day a month here.

Her arms shook.

Forgetting Moody's advice in a moment of sheer panic, she turned on the spot.

She never really understood why she appeared with a _pop _in her old hometown.

Hermione looked around, surprised. Had she been thinking of home, lately? This was a Muggle neighborhood; she checked for anyone that might have seen her appear, but there was no one. Slowly, Hermione turned to look at her childhood home.

It was empty, now. Her parents were…

She felt sick.

She couldn't breathe.

Without a word, Hermione turned hard right and walked down the street, where an old store she had bought popsicles from in the summer before magic came to her was waiting at the end of the road.

Funny, those days seemed so far away.

The store was cool, empty, and had the same scent of flowers from the tiny greenhouse in the back, just as she remembered. As she walked through the isles, memories came back to her.

_Hermione, dear, grab daddy the cereal, okay?_

_ Would you like to ride in the cart while mommy shops, Hermione?_

_ Here you are – this candy is on the house, Miss Granger. Come again with your parents, okay?_

She reminisced in silence. And then, she stopped dead.

Slowly, she backed up three steps, all the way to the small white boxes in rows on the shelves. The fancy pink label read, "99.9% Accuracy". Another row read "Smart Check" and a third read "Perfect Test". Hermione gulped. Could she be right?

Her internal debate lasted only a few seconds. She grabbed the box that said "99.9% Accuracy" and walked to the checkout.

Her apartment was colder when she returned.

With trembling hands, she tore open the Muggle package and disappeared into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, she returned to the bedroom and waited. Her thought ran amok. Why did she have to buy _that _one? Didn't 99.9% sound more certain that 100% for some reason? What if it was really true? What would she do?

Her head sunk into her knees.

God, what would she do?

_Beep._

Her eyes snapped open. Somewhere in her living room, the door opened.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice called. "Hermione, are you here?"

She gasped. "Harry!" She ran out into the living room and slammed the door to her small room shut. Harry was in the middle of taking off his shoes and blinked.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Is someone here?"

"No, no," she assured him quickly, "Just me. Why are you h-here?"

He frowned. "I, uh, heard from Moody that you came to your flat, and I wanted to make sure you were – are you okay? You look really sick."

"I'm fine," she said. He took a step toward her, and she went ridged in front of the door. He stared. "Do you want something to eat?" she asked brightly. "Go to the kitchen, I'll make you something!"

She walked toward her kitchen at a brisk pace, but Harry moved forward instead. He threw her bedroom door open forcefully, and Hermione stopped in her tracks and spun around.

"Harry, stop!" she yelled.

He vanished into the room.

"Harry!" she yelled.

She dashed to the door, but Harry was already frozen in his tracks in front of her bed.

Hermione gasped.

Everything felt like it came to a crashing halt when Harry said, "Hermione…Is that…"

Tears brimmed in her eyes.

"Is that…a pregnancy test?"

"DON'T READ IT!" she screeched, and finally she broke. Hermione sank to her knees and covered her ears. "Please, Harry, stop!"

"Hermione-"

"I haven't even looked at it, yet! I don't want you to see! Stop, stop!"

Silence settled over them. Harry's eyes were wide. He looked from the test to Hermione and back again. "You haven't seen it yet?"

She shook her head, and even though her eyes were shut she could feel hot tears slide down her face.

Harry stepped toward her, and then stepped again, until he was close enough that he kneeled and drew her into his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

She froze.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

Hermione Granger relaxed in her best friend's arms, but only because she knew it was a lost cause. Even though she hadn't seen the results, she knew what it would say.

She just wondered how long she could keep it a secret from her baby's father.

Miles away, Draco Malfoy fidgeted peacefully in his sleep.

A/N:

Last Chapter: Inducing an Epistaxis

Next Chapter: Plan B

So, yup. Poor Hermione. I'd be devastated, especially if what I hoped wouldn't happen in the first place happened. But, you know, babies… That's gonna be an awkward lunch :/

Please review!


	10. Plan B

A/N: Hmm, I feel like I may update regularly, now. School's nearly out, you see, so I have tons of time on my hands. Enjoy : )

Plan B

Harry Potter hurried along the early morning street, lack cloak swirling around him in tow. It was nearly four AM, and he'd already been gone an hour…

The bag of goods in his hands swung wildly, the plastic crinkling a little louder than he would have liked. Soon, he reached a secluded alley way. Anyone that may have been watching that particular street may have noticed that one moment the black-haired man was there, and then there was a loud pop, almost like a gunshot, and then he was gone.

Harry apparated outside of Hermione's apartment, rapped the door with his knuckles twice, and stepped inside.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said quickly, "There was a huge lineup at the store you sent me to, which is weird, because of the time, and then the person in front of me pulled out a gun and tried to take everyone hostage, but I was so mad that I had to wait that long that I just obliviated everyone's memory, took the man's gun, and left…I forgot to pay, but here," he presented her with a small handgun and bullets, "a souvenir."

Hermione smiled. "I don't know what I'll do with this," she said. "But thank you."

He sat down on the floor in front of the couch she was on and began unloading the plastic bag. Milk, vitamins, a small blanket, some liquid in a yellow bottle, slippers… "I didn't know what to get, so I just bought random things," Harry explained.

"You didn't need to do this, Harry," she said.

His unpacking slowed. "Hermione," he said quietly, "What are you going to do?"

She couldn't answer.

"This baby," Harry said, "It's Malfoy's, right?"

Another tear escaped past her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away and nodded.

"But how?" he asked. "Mad-Eye said you didn't get pregnant."

She bit her lip. "It was an accident," she admitted, and Harry's eyes widened. "We were both…um…drunk."

She expected Harry to stand up and apparate to Malfoy manor on the spot, but he didn't. Instead, he sighed. "I see," he said. "Hermione, listen to me very carefully: you can't tell him."

Hermione blinked. "B-but," she said, "Harry, I'm going to have his _child_, I have to tell him! I'm meeting him tomorrow, and I'll tell him then! He has a right to know!"

"You can't, Hermione," he said. "You can't have anything to do with him, from now on."

"But the mission!" she cried. "We can at least go forward with the mission now, right? We can get Malfoy on our side!"

"Did you already forget Parvati?!" he yelled, and she fell silent. "Hermione, Parvati was murdered for having Flint's baby! What do you think Voldemort will do to you if he finds out his most trusted Death Eater's son is the father of yours?!"

"He won't find out," she whispered.

"You can't know that."

"I have to tell Malfoy, for the sake of the mission-"

"Forget the mission!" he yelled. "Hermione, there is no mission anymore! We abandoned it because of Parvati, because we don't want you to die! Don't tell him," he cautioned, "If you let him know, it's over. You'll be killed."

Deep in her heart, she knew it was true.

"The old plan isn't good, now," he said. "We have to move on. It's time for plan B."

Draco Malfoy hummed as he sat in the late October sun, contemplating the rational side of his actions.

Had Granger received his owl? He didn't know where she lived – he had to visit the Daily Prophet services office and wait on hold in front of the desk of a particularly grumpy blind Wizard only half his height for hours before he was able to ask the home address of Hermione Granger. Even then, the blind wizard scribbled it down super quickly and it didn't seem that accurate.

Draco smoothed back his hair nervously and glanced around the sunlight shop. It was nearly empty, just he and a father and son, and none of them spoke a single word. He checked his watch. It was five minutes past the time they were supposed to meet.

A thought struck him.

What if she was hurt?

Draco nearly jumped out of his chair before he realized that first of all, he had no proof to suggest that Granger was in any danger and second, he didn't even know where she was, so saving her was impossible. He kept his bottom firmly glued to his chair.

The shop bell tinkled.

"Good afternoon, Malfoy," said a familiar voice, and Draco turned to see the woman he was waiting for, smiling pleasantly at him.

…actually, frowning. In fact, he observed, Hermione looked positively annoyed.

He motioned to the empty chair. "Sit," he said, "We can order as soon as you've picked something."

"No need," she said coldly, and he felt that something was very wrong. "I won't be staying long enough to sit. I came to tell you something."

He blinked. "Granger…what's wrong? Maybe you should sit down-"

"I see no reason," she interrupted, "to meet you anymore. Please don't bother me again."

His mouth was open, but no words came out.

She continued. "I thought about it," she said, "And I couldn't think of a single reason I would want to be your friend. I'm sorry if my…actions during the past few months mislead you in any way." She nodded. "Then…"

He grabbed her wrist as she turned to go. "Wait, wait just a moment," he said, rubbing his temples with his free hand. "You what? Can't think of why we should be friends? What the hell brought this on, so suddenly?"

"No reason," she said coolly. "Our personalities just clash too much."

"What about what we've done?" he asked.

She had the nerve – the nerve, Draco thought! – to shrug. "Call it a mistake and leave it at that. An accident."

He scoffed. "Accident?" His hand released her wrist and he laughed. "You mean, you're going to call practically stalking me an accident? You really had nothing to do with how I was seduced by you? _Twice_? Because, please, you know I don't believe for a second that this was all coincidental."

She crossed her arms over her body, and he noted how she was wearing short robes and a small necklace that he knew Potter had given her for her birthday during their school years. She still had that piece of trash? Granger huffed. "Okay," she admitted. "Fine. You're right. I planned it all. I saw you a few months ago, saw how you've changed since Hogwarts, and I wondered what it would be like to sleep with you. So I planned everything."

He shook his head. "You're crazy,"

"Yes, I'm crazy," she said. "Crazy enough to plan my entire schedule around seducing you."

"Everything was planned?"

"Well," she allotted, "The second time really was an accident. But I'm known for not being a repeat offender, so we'd better quit while we're ahead."

He shook his head. "I don't believe you."

"How so?"

"This isn't something Hermione Granger would do. Especially not to me."

"How do you know?" she asked. "What do you know about me? Have you seen me grow up? Were you around the last few years? You don't know anything about me." She added calmly, "I've always been like this."

He didn't believe his ears.

"Then," she said, "I'll get going."

Thirty seconds after she left the shop, Draco came to his senses and sprang to his feet. She was barely rounding the corner, and he managed to close almost all the distance in ten seconds. "Granger, hold on!" he cried, and the crowd around them parted to let him pass. Granger paused to look back at him angrily.

"What now?" she asked. "Didn't we already resolve this?"

He held out his hand. "Give it back," he demanded.

She blinked. "Give what back?"

"My virginity!" he yelled.

Heads turned with puzzled looks on their faces in their direction. Granger's eyes widened and she hissed, "Shh! Everyone's watching us, you dolt!"

"Do you think that's the issue right now?" he asked, and wiggled his fingers. "Give me back my virginity, hurry!"

"What are you, crazy?" she hissed. "That's not something I can give back!"

"Then why did you take it without thinking?!" he yelled, ignoring her pleas for him to quiet down. "Don't take things that don't belong to you, Granger! Did it ever occur to you that maybe I was saving my first time for my wife? What am I supposed to tell her when I find her? What do you expect me to tell my children!"

She flinched. "Don't make a huge deal out of this…"

"It _is_ a huge deal," he said. "Unlike you, Granger, I always thought my first time would be special and that it would mean something to both of us. In fact, I thought it meant something to you. And now what? You were just curious? Quickly, give me back my purity!"

"You are ridiculous!" she hissed. The crown around them began to murmur.

"Fine, then," he said. "If you can't give it back, you have to do something else."

She stared at him. "What's that?"

"Take responsibility," he said.

"Huh?"

"Take responsibility for your actions," he said louder.

She frowned. "How?"

"Marry me."

She apparated with a _pop_.

Draco swore.

A/N:

Previous Chapter: The Infant Stratagem

Next Chapter: Mrs. Potter

I found the idea of Draco demanding his virginity back from Hermione so entertaining, I just had to write it out. Please look forward to the next chapter! And, if all possible, take some leftover Easter candy for reviewing!

Pan-tan


	11. Mrs Potter

A/N: Ahh… Here you go.

Mrs. Potter

Hermione Granger appeared in her apartment suddenly, the loud _crack _that followed apparition not nearly loud enough to cover her scream.

Harry practically flew off of the couch. "What happened?!" he yelled. "Did Malfoy call it off?"

She stared, horror struck, into his eyes. "He proposed."

… … …

Of course, he hadn't _meant _it.

Draco wanted Hermione to marry him just about as much as he wanted to kiss the wrong end of a blast-ended skrewt. He was just mad – confused, even. Who knew that Granger was so naturally malicious?

_You're right. I planned it all._

He shook his head. "No, no," he said to himself, "Not even Granger is that cunning. The club? She couldn't have figured out that I frequent that place. The concert? No, the tickets were a private transaction." He snapped his fingers. "The robe shop! …How was she supposed to know I needed new ones?"

He ruffled his hair in frustration, unaware that a small portion of it was stuck up, making him look remarkable like a baby duck.

Draco had proposed half-heartedly, on the spot. He was under pressure; Granger had just revealed her evil nature, and all those people were witness to their argument. Demanding that Granger marry him was a…defense mechanism. Besides, now that he knew the sex hadn't meant anything, he did feel like he'd lost something important.

_Still, did I have to demand my virginity back so ardently?_

He groaned and rolled onto his stomach, smacking his face into his pillow. So many people had been watching! And Granger – what had she done for him? The second the words came out of his mouth, she apparated like he was a dingo and she was a baby. He could already picture what their conversation must have looked like to the audience:

"You took my virginity!"

"Get over it! It's not like you had equal part in all this, or anything."

"As long as I'm making irrational demands, marry me because we had sex twice!"

"Nope!"

_Pop_.

And then Granger was gone.

He tossed onto his back suddenly, frowning up at the ceiling. No matter how upset he was, it was ridiculous of him to actually demand marriage. They were enemies. Sure, no one was positive who was on what side of the war or if there were even a part of it anymore. For all Draco knew, all had been quiet on the war front for so long, even Potter could have been leading a regular life for the last six years! What proof had he that Granger was in the Order? There wasn't any reason for him to ignore his feelings-

Draco rolled off the bed.

_Feelings_?

Oh, Merlin, no. He scrambled to his feet. "No feelings," he said. "None." And it was the truth. What did he feel for Granger, he wondered? Well, even if the Dark Lord himself threatened to kill Draco for saying it, he couldn't deny that there was a sexual attraction. But did it go beyond that?

_Yes, I'm crazy. Crazy enough to plan my entire schedule around seducing you._

He shook his head. Not even he was mad enough to do something so risky. Nott was right: Granger was a definite no-no.

… … …

Harry frowned through the entire story. "He's mad, that one,"

Hermione smiled weakly. "Yeah. Mad."

"But, Hermione," said the raven-haired boy, "You…What do you want to do?"

She blinked. "Do?"

He nodded.

"About what?"

"Y'know," he murmured, "The baby…"

"Oh."

"No one will blame you," he said, "if you decide you don't want it. After all, this world is a horrible place. And…no one knows right now but me, right? If you want, we can get it taken care of before anyone else finds out. Because, if anyone does, there's going to be a question of who the father is."

She stared straight ahead. "Yeah."

"You can't exactly answer those questions," he added.

"Yeah."

"What do you want to do?"

She swallowed. "I…"

Outside, a storm was brewing.

"For now, I don't want anyone to know that this child is Malfoy's," she said. "No matter what."

Harry nodded. "No matter what."

There was a harsh knocking at the door. Hermione jumped and said, "Who do you think that is?"

He shook his head. "I'll go check." Harry crossed the living room and cracked the door open a single inch before Malfoy shoved it open.

Hermione blinked in shock, and used the only sense she had left to cover the pregnancy vitamins Harry had bought her with a blanket. Malfoy caught her eye and started advancing at a quick pace. She blanched. "M-Malfoy, why are you-?"

"Okay," he said, "I thought about it, and it doesn't make any sense. You wanted to know what it was like to sleep with me?" He scoffed. "Honey, please. Six years ago we couldn't stand each other."

"How do you know where I live?" she shrieked, but then remembered the letter he had sent her. "Why are you here?"

Harry Escaped from behind the door and advanced on Malfoy, whom held up a hand to stop him, and Harry froze. "So, you planned everything," Draco continued. "Fine. Okay, I believe you. You're a mad, mad witch that needs to straighten out her priorities. But, Granger."

Granger's mouth was hanging open.

"The second time we had sex was an accident. You told me so yourself."

Harry's face erupted into a dazzling display of all the shades of red that were in the rainbow. He sputtered incoherently. Granger just said, "What – what – what?"

"You were right about something," said Draco. "You aren't a repeat offender. But you were wrong about something else. You're not an offender at all. You don't offend, Granger, so this whole situation makes no sense. Admit it!" he finally concluded triumphantly. "You feel something."

"Get out of my house!" she yelled. "Why are you even here? Get out!"

He dodged the pillow she threw at him. "No."

"Out!"

"You feel something, admit it."

"You're right!" she yelled. "I do feel something! I feel sick!"

He dodged the other pillow. "You look fine to me," he said.

Harry tried to intervene again, but Draco only held up his hand to silence him. Granger was livid. "And what about you, Malfoy?" she asked harshly. "Why are you so hung up over this? Still upset over losing your virginity?"

Harry's jaw dropped, and he looked from Draco to Granger and back again. Draco shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I know this: Granger, you planned our first time. But you made a mistake, and we did it again. You made one mistake. But you know what? There's no way I made the same mistake twice unless it meant something."

"Oh, not this again!" she complained. "I thought I cleared this up two hours ago!"

"Hear me out!" he snapped. "I realized something. Remember when I told you that I thought I liked you?"

Harry Potter was very rapidly becoming the Boy Who Turned into a Lava Lamp. His face suddenly drained of color, and he looked positively ashen. Granger said, "So what?"

"I take it back."

"You took it back already, when I hit you."

"No, I take back taking it back."

"What?"

"I mean I do like you!" he said. "At least, I think I do. No, I know it." He looked at her seriously. "Granger, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I don't care what you try to tell me and what lies you come up with, but you can't lie anymore." He took a breath. "You feel something too."

Hermione was startled to find that, for a moment, his speech was nearly convincing. She almost _did_ feel something. Almost. But then, reality came back to her, and she shook her head and opened her mouth to speak.

"She doesn't."

Hermione blinked. Draco blinked. Both looked at Harry, who was quietly fuming. Draco blinked again. "Potter!" he yelled, making them all jump. "How long have you been there?!"

"She doesn't like you, Malfoy," he said again. "She-"

The front door creaked open. Hermione gasped as Luna's head poked into the room. The girl's eyes widened at the sight of the three of them. Harry's bottom lip trembled. "Hermione, I…" said Luna. "What…Why is Malfoy…?" She stepped inside the room and the door shut behind her. "Harry, what's going on?"

"What _is _going on?" demanded Malfoy. "What are you and Granger hiding, Potter?"

Hermione could tell something was wrong. She could tell from the way he moved toward her and put his hand over hers. Harry closed his eyes in resignation. "Hermione doesn't like you," he repeated. "She'll never like you. Because…"

Hermione realized what he was going to say.

"She's my girlfriend."

The door slammed, and Hermione's head flipped to look at Luna, but she was already gone. Draco couldn't have felt more wretched if Granger had stabbed him in the heart herself. To his surprise, she turned to yell at Harry.

"How could you tell her that?!" she yelled. "Go after her, you idiot!"

"I'm not going anywhere," he growled, locking eyes with Draco. "I'm not leaving my girlfriend alone with a Malfoy."

"Harry, what've you done?" she screamed. "Luna-! How could you-?"

"It was about time I told her, anyway," he said. "Besides. Malfoy needed to know to back off."

Draco wasn't even listening. His head swam.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Harry was lying. Harry had told Malfoy that she was his girlfriend. He had said it in front of Luna! Hermione realized suddenly that Harry didn't know that she knew about his and Luna's relationship. The girl's face when she drew the spoon appeared in Hermione's mind, and she felt like dying.

"Get out," she hissed.

"Hermione-"

"Get OUT!" She tossed the remaining pillow at Harry. "Go fix it! How could you? How dare you? Get out!"

Harry glanced at Malfoy once before shutting the door.

They were alone.

"Is it true?" he whispered.

She said nothing.

"Is it the truth?" he asked again. "Granger, did you really seduce me while you were dating Potter?"

She understood that Harry had given her the chance she needed to leave Malfoy behind. Her stomach lurched. Could she really not tell him about their child?

She froze.

_Their_…child?

"Granger!" he said.

"It's true," she answered easily. "Harry and I have been dating for a while now."

He clenched his teeth. "Liar."

"It's not a lie," she sighed.

"Doing the things we did usually negate other relationships, Granger. We were each other's first, so don't expect me to believe you felt-"

"Excuse me?" she said. "When did I ever say you were my first?"

He blanched.

"Isn't it obvious that, if Harry and I were dating, we'd have done things like that before?" she asked. "Trust me, it didn't mean anything. I was just curious."

His hands clenched.

She sighed. "If there's nothing else, Malfoy, get out, will you?"

His eyes snapped to hers, and she stared him down. He stood there, quivering in fury before turning sharply and slamming the door behind him. She waited for the crack that meant he had left.

And then she cried.

… … …

It was late in the day, and Nott stared, wholly unimpressed, at a pouting Draco Malfoy. "Good lord, man," he murmured. "Who died?"

Draco ignored his friend, and instead continued to peel the seemingly endless amount of chestnuts that Nott had in his kitchen.

The man himself shook his head. "You are ridiculous. Draco, if you're here to mope, you can leave." He pointed to the front door of his house, a notably smaller residence than Draco's, but it was odd how it felt more like home.

In protest, he gripped the stool he sat on and glared. "Deal with it," he said.

"You're telling me to deal?" Nott asked in disbelief. "Really, what's wrong with you? This is an awkward time to beg an audience."

Draco bit his lip in hesitation, something Nott had never seen in the Malfoy heir. "Your Dad home?" he finally asked.

Nott raised an eyebrow. "Hardly ever."

Draco pushed the huge quantity of shelled chestnuts away and dusted off his hands. "Theo," he murmured, "Things have gotten serious."

He blinked. "Oh, God," he said. "This is about Granger, isn't it?"

He stared blankly.

"What now?" Nott hissed. "Wait, don't tell me, she broke up with you."

"We were never together!" Draco insisted.

"I told you to stop seeing her!" Nott yelled. "Draco, this isn't just because I dislike Granger, or because she's uglier than a hippogriff, or because she might be a member of the Order! It's because of who she's friends with. Potter. Potter!"

Draco's expression notably darkened. "That's just what the problem is," he said. "Harry fucking Potter."

Nott blinked. "What's going on?"

"They're dating."

"They're _what_?"

"Granger slept with me twice at night while she was dating Potter in the morning."

"That bitch," Nott said blandly.

"You don't sound that angry."

"I am. I'm also quite happy. Conflicting emotions."

"Theo, what?"

"I'm mad because she cheated on my best friend. But I'm happy because she actually cheated on my best friend."

"What the hell?"

"I told you," Nott reminded him, attempting to hide his smile, "Conflicting emotions."

"This isn't funny, Theo!" hissed Draco. "Did you know Granger was so evil? She even told me that she's slept with Potter!"

Nott laughed and grabbed a chestnut. "He's not the only bloke she's slept with," he said, and took a bite of the nut. "Ew, that's bitter…"

"What do you mean?" Draco asked. "Potter isn't the only bloke? Theo, I swear, if you're messing with me just for the sport-!"

"No, really!" he insisted. "Didn't you pay attention to gossip when we were in school?"

"What gossip?!"

"Granger and Krum!" Nott said. "Daphne Greengrass said that Padma Patil overheard Ginny Weasley telling Luna Lovegood that she heard Pansy Parkinson telling Hanna Abbot that Neville Longbottom saw Granger snogging Krum in the Astronomy tower after the second task!"

He was so affronted by the overwhelming force of the information network among his peers and the sheer absurdity of Nott's claim that all he could say was "_What_?"

He took a breath. "Daphne Greengrass said that-"

"No, no, I got that!" Draco yelled. "Granger and Krum? Ridiculous, they were just snogging, then."

"I forgot," said Nott, "You were such a virgin in fourth year, you never went up to the Astronomy tower. Well, dear friend, I'm a pureblood too, and even I know that the Astronomy tower is the place to go."

Draco's face drained of color, and he felt colder.

"And then there was McLaggen," Nott added thoughtfully.

"WHO?!"

"You know, Cormac McLaggen. Unpleasant fellow, boasted loads, chased after Granger in our sixth year." He blinked. "You don't remember?"

"I was busy that year," Draco explained distractedly. "What the hell do you mean, though? Granger and M-McLaggen?"

"Why, yes," Nott affirmed. "I heard from Blaise who heard from Pansy that overheard Ginny Weasley telling Lavender Brown that Granger had a huge fight with Ron Weasley and that she and McLaggen met coincidentally in the corridor when she was upset and that they vanished into an empty classroom after that."

He was too outraged for words.

"Makes sense, though," Nott said, "Now that I think about it. Why McLaggen was so hung up on getting Granger to be his girlfriend, I mean. They did it once, and he thought he owned her, but Granger wanted to stay a free spirit."

"Surely that's the end."

The surprise on the dark-haired boy's face appalled the young Malfoy. "But then Granger started dating Longbottom," he said calmly.

"What?!"

"They didn't stay together very long," he reminisced. "Of course, Neville looked a lot more mature after that. Oh, and I nearly forgot – there was Weasley, too."

For one insane moment, Draco thought Nott meant Ginny. Mentally shaking himself, he said, "When was this?"

"Right after the battle of Hogwarts," he said. "Potter saw them share their first snog himself. Hm, and who really knows what she's been up to the last six years?"

He had never felt more betrayed in his life.

"Forget her, mate," sighed Nott. He grabbed the basket with all the shelled chestnuts and placed it in Draco's lap. "If peeling nuts helps, peel them all. You've got to move on. Granger is trouble."

"I just can't believe it," he whispered. "All those men…"

"I don't care about Granger's escapades, so long as they cease involving you," he said. "I really am worried. Don't let anyone else find out about this. I don't want you to be killed by our dad's boss."

Secretly, he had already planned a second attempt at meeting with Granger, but Draco nodded. "Yeah. Like you said, who knows what she's been up to the last six years?"

Nott snapped his fingers. "Oh, that's right!" he exclaimed.

"What?"

He grinned. "She did it with Blaise, too. He told me."

Draco flipped the chestnut basket.

A/N:

Previous Chapter: Plan B

Next Chapter: Mother Mad-Eye

Well, I thought Nott's account of Hermione's escapades would be an entertaining read. It was certainly fun to write. Thank you for reading! Thanks for all the favorites and the follows I'm getting. I'm all warm and stuff inside. Drop in a review if you can! Reviews are a fanfiction author's bread and water. Without them, we shrivel and die. A morbid metaphor, but it does the trick.

Pan-tan


	12. Mother Mad-Eye

A/N: Well. Enjoy this shit.

Mother Mad-Eye

There was a firm, loud knock on her flat's apartment door the next morning, and Harry sheepishly opened the door. Hermione dropped the pan that her eggs were cooking in and raced over to him.

"Harry, there you are!" she cried.

There were dark circles under his eyes. He smiled half-heartedly. "Mm. I'm back."

She dragged him over to the couches, extinguished the fire of her stovetop with her wand, and faced him seriously. "Did you talk to Luna?" she asked immediately.

He blinked. "Hermione," he said slowly, "maybe it's just me, but you seem too involved in my and Luna's relationship."

Her face burned. "Uh, truth be told, Harry," she replied, "When Mrs. Weasley made that bad stew…And everyone was retching… I…heard you and Luna."

He went ashen. "Did you tell Ginny?"

"Merlin, no!" she gasped.

He twiddled his thumbs. "How much did you hear?"

"Up to the marriage part," she admitted. "Then I backed out. It wasn't my business."

Harry sighed. "Are you mad at us?" he asked. "For talking about marriage when everyone is suffering?"

"Of course not," she replied softly. "Harry, I think it's wonderful that you and Luna love each other. I was surprised at first, I admit. If you don't mind talking about it," she said, "I'm here."

He chuckled darkly. "You're the one that needs to talk, Hermione," he said.

They sat in silence for a while, looking anywhere but each other. Hermione bit her lip. Harry shuffled his feet.

Just as she was about to say something about getting back to breakfast, Harry spoke. "Luna and I," he whispered, and Hermione was rapt with attention. "We…started dating two years ago."

Her mouth fell open. That long?

"At first it was hard," he said slowly, "Because Kingsley had just gone missing, and everyone was stressed, and I didn't know when any of my friends might die, so Ginny and I broke up."

She nodded; she remembered their break-up well. It had been for the best, everyone had agreed, even if Molly had been a little disappointed.

"Not long after, Luna and I started talking," he continued. "She was just what I needed, Hermione; everyone else was so high-strung. 'When will we attack the Death Eaters, Harry?' 'When can we go find Kingsley, Harry?' 'When will this war end, Harry?' I was so overwhelmed. But Luna." He laughed. "Luna Lovegood knew just what to say to me. The first time we talked was after Ginny and I ended, and everyone that had come to see me either told me that it was the right decision or that I was mad."

Hermione listened in silence.

"Luna walked into Sirius' room where I was hiding, and even if she was Luna Lovegood, I expected her to say something like everyone else. But instead she said, 'Sex sucks, huh?'"

Hermione, had she been drinking something, would have choked. "What?"

"That's what I said." Harry was smiling, as if it were a fond memory. "Luna just grinned up at me and said, 'Nothing. You just looked so depressed that I had to shock you.'"

The simplicity of what she had done was genius. Hermione was reassured, not for the first time, why Luna was a Ravenclaw.

"It shocked me right out of my depression," he admitted. "Before I knew it, the exact same reasons that I had broken up with Ginny became the reason I started dating Luna. Because I wanted to protect her."

A flock of migrating birds soared past the window, much further away.

"I love her," he said. "But I love you, too. If time has taught me anything, it's that Luna is strong. She can protect herself."

"So," said Hermione quietly, "Did you clear this up with her? Did you tell her that we aren't dating, and that you lied to save me from Malfoy?"

The very second he hesitated, she knew something had gone terribly wrong. "Hermione," he said, "I-I have an idea. You can't be found out, obviously. You'll be killed, targeted by Voldemort. So, just for now…"

"Harry."

"Just for now…"

"Harry!"

"Pretend that I'm the father."

"Harry!" she cried. "Did you tell Luna the truth?!"

He looked her blatantly in the eyes. "We broke up."

She blanched. "Why?" she whispered. "Why didn't you tell her the truth? Harry, you broke her heart!"

"I know!" he yelled. His eyes shut, and she could tell he felt bad for raising his voice. "But, Hermione, Luna can save herself. You can't."

She stared. "This isn't right."

"If you dying means I have to pretend that I didn't have the chance to save you, I'd rather never marry anyone!" he cried. "Right now, _you _are my top priority! Once everything has settled down, I'll tell Luna the truth. Until then, Hermione," he took a breath, "I'm your child's father."

She felt like she was drowning. There was nothing she could say, she realized, nothing she could do to change his mind. Harry was determined, and if anyone understood his stubbornness, it was she. She swallowed. "The minute this is over," she said.

He blinked.

"The very minute, Harry," she said.

He smiled. "Thank you," he whispered, "for letting me save you."

"First things first," Hermione said, trying to push the unpleasant thoughts out of her mind, "Let's go to a hospital."

He frowned. "Hospital? Why? Are you sick?"

She glared at him in exasperation. "I'm _pregnant_, Harry," she articulated. "There are tests that need to be done. And to avoid anyone finding out about this, let's visit a Muggle hospital. I always trusted them more, anyway."

He smiled softly. "Really?"

"Well," she allowed, "Only when it comes to non-magical ailments. It pains me to say this, but the Muggle world has advanced technology and we have magic. What some wizards haven't thought of is that Muggles may be more advanced than us."

Harry grinned. "That's an interesting way to look at things. Then, shall we go?"

"Now?" She shifted uncomfortably. "We don't have an appointment."

His eyes sparkled. "That's one technological advantage to being a Wizard," he said, holding up his old, well-used wand. "We can just make one."

… … …

"Well," the Muggle Doctor (whom was also a Nun that introduced herself as 'Mother Angelica') began slowly, "Everything looks normal, Mrs. Granger. Hm. I'm a bit surprised that you didn't come in to see me sooner, though. You're already at five weeks. Most young woman your age are in to see me at three."

Hermione fidgeted nervously under the ultrasound equipment, and Harry scrambled around uncomfortably every few seconds. She tried not to look at him; her shirt was pulled up, exposing her belly (which was still very flat). He tried not to look at her, as well. "I only recently found out," she said softly.

Mother Angelica clicked her tongue. "Well," she said again, "The fetus is developing nicely. Hmm. I wonder…"

She blinked up at her and found that her eyes were fixed on the screen next to them. She hadn't had the courage to look, yet. "What?"

"Would you like to hear the baby's heartbeat?" she asked. Hermione was so shocked, thrilled, and terrified of the question that she stared at her. Its heart was already beating? After this short amount of time? After a few seconds of silence, the doctor-nun turned her face to look at her, a bemused smile stretching across her aging lips. "Mrs. Granger?" she asked. "Would you like to hear your baby's heartbeat?"

Harry reached over to nudge her, and she nodded. Mother Angelica took the blue stethoscope from around her neck and pressed it to Hermione's stomach. She gulped from the cool feeling that washed over her. She listened intently with one ear for a few moments, adjusted the position of the stethoscope, and eventually a satisfied smile crossed her face.

"Here," she said, holding the ear pieces out for her, "Listen. There's a nice, even beat."

Even wasn't how she would have described it. _Pa-dum, pa-dum, pa-dum, pa-dum_… Her eyes widened a fraction. Strong. Her baby's heart was beating, strongly. Merlin, it was so _loud_. How big was it now? The size of a sesame seed, she had been told. The sound was more magical to her than any spell she'd ever cast. Hermione was overcome with the desire to share this phenomenon with someone, anyone. She looked to her friend. "Harry?" she asked, surprised at how airy her voice was. "Would you like to hear?"

Harry looked from her to the doctor-nun and back again. He shifted his feet, and she could see a thin sheen of sweat glisten on his forehead. "O-okay, sure," he agreed, and move to the stethoscope. He listened for no more than eight seconds before pulling away. "That was something," he said, but his words didn't quite match his eyes.

Hermione hardly noticed. "That was…I don't know," she admitted. "I think..." She glanced up at Mother Angelica, who was looking at her in a peculiar way. "Um, thank you," she said.

"Of course, dear," said the old woman. "Just take the vitamins I prescribed, exercise every so often, and avoid stress. You'll be just fine. Come back for a check-up in one month."

Hermione pulled her shirt back down and sat up. "I'll be back, then," she said.

"Bring your husband!" she chortled, and Harry went bright red. "He's an awkward fellow, but he'll be a good _father_."

She frowned a bit at the unnatural inflection of the nun's voice, but shook it off. "Yes," she affirmed. "Yes, he will."

Something to their left beeped, and she and Harry jumped. Mother Angelica smiled kindly. "I nearly forgot," she said, and glided over to a copy machine stored in the corner. She rummaged around for a short while before heading back to Hermione and presenting her with three small pieces of paper. "Here. Take those with you."

Puzzled, she flipped them over.

Her breath caught in her throat. It was the ultrasound image of the fetus. Small, black and white, hardly noticeable. She swallowed, but her throat was dry. The shrewd nun only smiled at the pair of them and showed then silently to the door.

… … …

"Draco."

He cringed inwardly.

"Draco, I know you're not sleeping. Get up."

He exhaled, shifted his weight to the edge of his bed and hung his legs off the side. Draco looked up at Lucius Malfoy. "Good morning, father."

"You should be up by now," he responded coldly. "Come."

Draco followed in the tall man's shadow, out of his bedroom and down the stairs. "Where are we going?" he asked, unable to stand the wait.

Lucius responded gravely, "To train."

They did this every week. Malfoys must not be outmatched, his father would tell him when he was young. Malfoys must always be the best, he had told him with a smile. Malfoys must be strong.

Years later, they did the same routine once every seven days. Funny, thought Draco, he used to enjoy this when he was a boy. He risked a glance at the intimidating man walking briskly in front of him. When he was young, his father used to smile, too.

Now it was gone.

The house was quiet, so he assumed that his mother was out. He hadn't seen much of her, lately. He thought of Hermione: would they become like this, too? Would the smiles disappear and would they see less of each other?

Draco silently cursed Potter. Damn Harry Potter. How long had the two of them been together? And – his throat tightened – would they stay that way?

In the oddest place, Lucius stopped walking. Draco nearly ran into his back, but stopped himself just in time. They were in the living room. The furniture had been removed. The carpet taken out. The paintings on the walls missing from their frames. It was a different world, entirely.

"You must always be ready, Draco," whispered his father, and Draco wondered if he could ever fix it. "You never know who may be your friend…or your enemy."

Lucius whirled around, brandishing his wand, and Draco shouted the first spell.

… … …

"Goodbye!" called Mother Angelica as they walked away from the examination room. "I'll see you in a month! You too, Potter!"

Once they were outside, Hermione carefully stowed the pictures away in her old, beaded bag. Harry watched her with wary eyes. Carefully, he licked his lips. "Hermione."

"Hm?"

"Hermione, you do remember what we talked about yesterday, don't you?"

Did she? She hardly remembered. The only thing that fit inside her mind now was Malfoy and her, her and her child, her child and Malfoy. _Pa-dum, pa-dum, pa-dum, pa-dum._ "What did we talk about?" she asked airily.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, hesitated, and said, "No, never mind. If this gets out of hand, I'll remind you. Call the hospital tomorrow to make another appointment with Mother Angelica." He paused to add, "It's my first time in a Muggle hospital in years. Since I was eleven. I was a bit nervous, but she was nice."

Hermione blinked. "Wait, a second," she said. "Something's strange."

"What is?"

"Mother Angelica called me Mrs. Granger, and she thinks we're married" she said slowly.

He shrugged. "Yeah. So?"

Hermione looked at him, a troubled haze clouding her eyes. "Harry," she exclaimed, "She called you Potter!"

Back in the hospital, Mother Angelica's face melted, shifted, and changed until it was no longer she, gazing down at the street below through the small office window, but one, Alastor Moody. He popped his blue magical eye back in and growled at the large amount of sunlight wafting through the glass. "Always getting yourselves into trouble, aren't you two? Trying to keep this secret from me?" He flicked his wand and the real Mother Angelica materialized, dazed, but just fine, in the corner. "Damn kids!" he hissed.

Mother Mad-Eye vanished with a _pop_, his habit swirling around him.

A/N:

Last Chapter: Mrs. Potter

Next Chapter: I See London, I see France

Hm. Well, that wasn't how I expected the chapter to pan out, but I find that I like this idea better than what I originally had planned. There'll be more of Malfoy in the next chapter. Sorry he wasn't in it much :/ But hey, you got to see Moody in a Habit. (I've tried to picture it. I can't. I just really can't.)

Today's imaginary menu is Vegan Tacos, so enjoy it if you review!

Pan-tan


	13. I See London, I See France

A/N: Yup.

I See London, I See France

For some awful, unexplainable reason, Draco couldn't stop thinking about Granger's underwear.

He rolled over again (was it the sixth or seventh time?) and sighed, smacking his head against the wooden floors of Malfoy Manor Greenhouse. The place had been neglected for so long that all the plants were dead, the glass windows were dirty, and the whole building was covered in dust. The only good things were, strangely, that it still smelled of fresh flowers and that no one in his family ever went into it.

He had the whole place to himself. So, he brooded in solitude.

Draco rolled onto his stomach. "But," he said out loud, so suddenly and noisily that a bird roosting in a tree outside flew off, "Does this make any sense?!"

Quick as lightning, he wobbled to a sitting position, his legs crossed and covered in dust.

"Granger isn't the only girl that wears underwear!" he rationalized. "Just because we have a strange relationship doesn't mean that I have to think about what she's wearing under her robes!" He shook his head with an exasperated sigh and tisked a few times. "Right, I'm the crazy one, I'm the one that's lost his mind," he mumbled.

His fist pounded the dusty wood.

"Granger and Potter?!" he yelled, and another bird took off. "That's so…weird! That doesn't make sense! Since when has this been going on? Has he seen her underwear, too?" Suddenly, he tossed himself onto his stomach again and said quietly, "Don't tell me….The blue lacy ones, as well?"

Defeated, and back where he began, Draco groaned and rolled around the floor. He stood abruptly.

"This won't do," he digressed. This will not do at all."

He began the brief walk back to the manor, where he had left his shoes. Once he had them on his feet, he headed for the front door.

"Mother, I'll be back soon!" he called, and reached for the handle.

…Which vanished.

His shoulders slumped, and he turned around. "What?" he sighed.

Narcissa wore a very convincing frown. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Out," he replied.

"When will you be back, then?" she demanded. "Soon isn't a time."

"Before dinner?" he said uncertainly. "Maybe?"

"You know what tonight is, don't you?" she said. "Don't tell me you forgot."

He had. Draco blinked. "What day is it?"

Narcissa sighed and smiled at her son. "The first of December, Draco."

_Oh_. He blinked. "Already, huh?"

"You don't have to go," she said. "Your father will be good enough for attendance."

"If you're sure," he said hesitantly. "Uh, by the way, mum…"

Her eyebrows rose. "Mum? Do you know how long it's been since you called me mum? What is it?"

He swallowed nervously. "Hypothetically speaking…"

"Yes?"

After a moment of deliberation, he smiled and shook his head. "Nothing. I'll be back, okay? Bye!" The knob reappeared, and he shoved on it.

She stared after him, but gave up on making sense of the way he was acting, and closed the door with a sigh.

… … …

Harry was gone; Hermione wasn't sure where he had left to. She was alone in her apartment.

She stared at the tiny pictures spread out on her table. The black dot wasn't any larger than a bean, surrounded by a mass of mottled grey and white. It was the smallest thing she'd ever laid eyes on, and it was a part of her.

Her hands flittered across her stomach. It had already been five weeks. She exhaled.

There was a rap at the door. "Granger, open up!"

Hermione gasped. Malfoy? Malfoy was here? Frantic, she reached for a blanket and threw it over the table, covering the pictures.

"Granger, if you don't open by the time I count to five, I'll-!"

She opened the door. "You'll what?"

Malfoy looked positively flustered. "H-hi," he said timidly. Without invitation, he pushed his way inside.

"Why are you here again?" she asked. "Still confused?"

He took off his coat and threw it on the table. The blanket shifted. Hermione held her breath. "I'm not confused," he said. "I just felt like coming. Potter isn't here today?"

"Aren't you worried about being seen?" she asked. "We aren't exactly on the same side of the war."

He froze. "Who says I'm a part of the war?" he asked. "I never said that."

"Oh, stop pretending!" she insisted. "I don't care if you're a death eater or not! The fact is, your whole family is on Voldemort's side, and everyone knows it!"

He swallowed. "So?"

She was taken aback by his blunt reply. "S-so," she said, "It would be crazy for us to be together anymore. We may not be players in the war, but your dad is a death eater, and my friend – boyfriend – is Harry Potter. Isn't that reason enough?"

"It isn't," he said, and took a step toward her.

She stepped back. "What are you talking about? You've been at my flat for twenty seconds, and you're already-"

He stepped again. "Already what?" he asked. "Why can't I be here? Why should I care about what the Dark Lord thinks of us?"

When had she backed up to the door? Her lips trembled. "But," she said quietly as he took yet another step, "But, the war… the Order…"

"Tell me the truth," he whispered, halting inches from her, "You don't love Potter, do you?"

He had missed one target and hit another. _That's not it, _she wanted to tell him. _Harry and I aren't even dating. You're right, I don't love him. I'm confused, and I don't know what to do. Help me understand._

But she didn't tell him. She only stared. Malfoy moved even closer, and she stopped breathing. "Tell the truth," he demanded again. "I'm not the only one that feels something, right?"

For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. But he just stared at her, and eventually she regained her sense. She ducked around him and headed for the table. She grabbed his coat and tossed it at him. "Let's talk later," she said, looking at the floor. "Tomorrow. I'll meet you in Diagon Alley. Just…not today. Please."

He put the coat on and nodded. "Fine. Tomorrow. If you don't show up, don't expect me to sit still." He paused, staring at her. "Tomorrow," he began quietly, "I'll tell you everything I'm thinking. I won't lie. So you don't lie, either."

He left. Hermione sat down. Tomorrow. She had to decide by tomorrow.

Try as she might to think it was her imagination, she couldn't ignore the way her heartbeat wouldn't slow down.

… … …

He stood outside Granger's door for five minutes before he convinced himself that he was making the right decision.

This was it.

He could make it through this.

He was a Malfoy, and if nothing else, he had pride. Draco Malfoy was going to tell her everything he was thinking. Without leaving a single thing out.

As he got ready to leave, something poked his side. Draco frowned and reached into his coat. Something smooth and thin was between his fingers, caught in the fabric. He pulled it out.

It was a photograph.

Draco stared.

"This is," he whispered.

The photograph was black and white, and the only blip on the film was no larger than a bean.

"This is-!"

His eyes snapped to the door he had just left.

Draco frowned. "What _is_ this?"

He shoved the photo into his pocket with a shrug and apparated away.

… … …

Moody paced back and forth in front of the fire in Grimmauld Place, Minerva worriedly sipping a cup of tea to his left.

She slammed the cup down on the table after an unbearable silence. "Really, Alastor, please tell me what this is all about!" she cried. "Why have you called me here? You haven't spoken a word for nearly a half-hour!"

"Shh," he ordered. "I'm thinking."

The retired headmistress frowned. "Is it important?" she asked.

"Potter said he has something to tell us," he barked. "Ruddy brat is late to his own party."

As if on cue, the door to Sirius's bedroom creaked open, and Harry entered, looking extremely nervous. He was fidgeting like he was covered in ants. "Er, sorry," he apologized. "On the way over, I was still wondering whether or not I should do this…"

Minerva frowned uneasily. "Is something the matter, Mr. Potter? You look as pale as a ghost!"

Moody's magical eye squinted – as best it could – at Harry. What was the boy going to tell them? He had to admit that he was interested if Potter would tell the truth.

Harry locked the door. "Honestly," he said quietly, "I've wanted to tell someone for a long time."

Moody sat in a wooden chair and leaned back. Interesting.

"And I've decided to do it," he continued.

Minerva interrupted. "Where is Miss Granger?" she asked. "I hardly ever see you two apart from one another these days."

Something uncomfortable shifted in Harry's eyes, and Moody grunted quietly. It was the perfect window for that obnoxious boy to tell the lie he had come to tell.

"Actually, Professor," he said hesitantly, "Hermione…is at her flat. We'd both like to request a few weeks leave from the Order."

Moody could have laughed. Playing it up, was he? Minerva seemed confused. "What for, Mr. Potter?"

Harry swallowed. "We're going to get married."

The shocked silence that filled the room was enough to nearly convince the old Auror that Harry was serious. And then he remembered that he wasn't stupid, and that Potter was ridiculous. Still, for the sake of Harry's plot, he feigned surprise. "Potter," he said evenly, "Are you serious?"

Harry nodded with greater conviction. "Yes. Hermione and I want to get married."

Minerva finally recovered from the shock and said in her most reasonable voice, "Mr. Potter, surely you realize that this sudden decision is…surprising. And will be very unwelcomed by the true patriots on our side. I must admit that I am a wee bit taken aback by this announcement. Why is Miss Granger not present?"

"She doesn't know that I'm here, actually," he confessed, and Moody knew that much was true, at least. "We've been very hesitant about this. I know not everyone will be too keen on the idea, but… Well, I want to do it."

"You most also realize," pleaded Minerva, "that if the other side finds out about your union, she may be in danger. Why bring this news to us?"

"Because I want Hermione to live," he answered immediately, and Moody saw a different side to the boy.

Interesting, he thought again. Now Potter was getting into how he really felt about this. But, the mad Auror reasoned, was just a few weeks enough time for those two idiots to accomplish what they were trying to hide? It wasn't as if Granger had a bloody head-cold.

"I want her to live," Harry said again. "If I can, I want to hide her somewhere. I know this is selfish, Professors, but you're the only two people in the whole world that I trust." (Moody almost snorted.) "Please, can't we make one more safe house? For Hermione?"

There was a silence that lasted several minutes. Finally, Minerva sighed. "You understand the selfishness of your request, Mr. Potter?" she asked. Harry nodded. "Well, Alastor? What do you think?"

"I could care less if Potter married all the girls his age," he said. "But if I had to be blunt, boy, I would ask you if you didn't at least feel sorry toward Granger, for our decision seven weeks ago."

Harry paled.

Moody's magical eye fixed on the boy's scar. "Do you?"

"We agreed," hissed Minerva, "That we would forget that ever happened! Alastor, what are you trying to do?"

"Of course I feel sorry," Harry whispered. "I feel so sorry I could die."

"Granger doesn't even _know_, Potter," he barked. "That's the reality. When she finds out, she'll probably hate us, but especially you."

"She won't find out," he said. "I'll stop it before that happens. I swear to it."

"For your sake," Moody warned, "She'd better not."

… … …

Draco anticipated his meeting with Hermione the whole night. In the morning, he arrived at Diagon Alley several hours earlier than he was supposed to, and went over and over in his head the things he wanted to say.

'I like you' and 'Please dump Potter' and 'Your weird picture got stuck to my coat' didn't really seem like good conversation starters.

He kept the photo in his pocket. He was completely confused as to what it could possibly be. It was unlike any photo he'd ever seen – it didn't move, speak, it wasn't a real shape or particular color, and the most frustrating thing was that it was totally fascinating.

Draco didn't know why, but he'd spent the entire night staring at that strange black dot on the picture. He hadn't slept at all, only worried, wondered, and stared. What _was _it, really? Some Muggle thing? He knew it was Granger's; her name was printed clearly on top. Somehow it must have gotten stuck to the fabric of his coat. It still didn't explain what it was, though. Overcome with the desire to brood over it longer, Draco pulled the photo from his pocket and looked at it some more. Should he just ask Granger when he returned it? Or should he ignore the issue entirely? He laughed abruptly, loudly. It probably wasn't even important!

A witch that had been walking by briskly was startled by Draco's sudden outburst of laughter, and threw her bags into the air.

"Sorry," apologized Draco, embarrassed.

He reached down to help her stuff her robes and bottled potion ingredients back into the ripped bags. The witch grinned. "Quite all right," she said. "You startled me, is all." Her eye caught the photo clutched in his pale hand. "Oh, is that an ultrasound?" she asked, brightening up.

Draco blinked and looked from the photo to the witch. "A what? Do you know what this is?" he asked excitedly.

She grinned. "Of course! It's an ultrasound! You see, I actually married a half-blood, so I have a Muggle sister-in-law. She's shown me all her ultrasounds!"

"But what's an ultrasound?" he asked. It sounded like some third-rate hearing improvement spell.

"Muggles use it for lots of things, you see," explained the witch, gathering up the last of her bags and standing, "but it's most commonly used for pregnant women."

Draco froze.

The witch grinned. "Is your wife a Muggle, perhaps?" she asked. "Congratulations! She probably slipped that into your pocket to surprise you."

"T-then this," he sputtered, eyes locked onto the black dot. "This is…"

"That's your baby!" she sighed. "Thank you very much for helping me. I've got to get home!"

The young witch-that-had-married-a-half-blood-man-with-a-Mug gle-sister-in-law-that-had-shown-her-the-photograp hs-of-her-ultrasounds congratulated him once more before hurrying off, and vanished into the cold December haze.

Draco stood like a block of ice – frozen, but melting slowly, as realization began to dawn on him at a snail's pace. A thousand thoughts filled his mind at once, and the dam burst. As he apparated to Hermione's apartment, two hours before they were supposed to meet, he had two things that he knew were absolutely true.

Granger was pregnant.

He didn't care.

… … …

"You told them we're getting married?" Hermione gasped.

Harry could barely look her in the eye. "Yeah."

She reached across the table and slapped him.

Harry didn't seem mad; he rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled, "Guess I deserve that…"

"Harry Potter!" she hissed, her face flushing with furry, "what has possessed you to do these things? I never asked for your help!"

"You already know," he mumbled. "You know why I'm doing this. Look, I've managed to get Moody and Professor McGonagall's permission to make another safe house. For you."

She sat back in angry amazement.

"The way I see it," he continued, "There's no way we can keep you being pregnant a secret. So, Hermione, I'm giving you an ultimatum."

She stared at him. "Really, why are you doing all this? This can't just be to protect me, Harry. Not even you would go this far."

He looked up at her.

Hermione felt apologetic for slapping him, and tenderly reached over the table and touched her palm to the cheek she had hit. She rubbed it gently. "Why are you going so far as to lie to the Order?" she asked. "Why are you pretending to love me?"

Harry's gaze, locked with hers, was deep, understanding, but wrong; there was no warmth in it. After a moment, he raised his fingers and softly covered hers. He then surprised her more by closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. "What if I said I wasn't pretending?"

She pulled back.

"I knew you'd react like that," he murmured, a sad smile on his lips. "Shame on me for thinking you'd be happy."

Hermione tried to speak, but no words would leave her throat. Her mouth was dry. Harry _couldn't _be serious.

The man's green eyes fluttered open, and suddenly she was staring at a stranger. He spoke again. "I'll give you an ultimatum," he repeated, not able to meet her eyes. "Either marry me, really marry me, and keep the baby, staying in the safe house until the day you die, or…" His hands clenched into fists. "Abort it."

She stared.

"Abort it and live. I'll take back what I just confessed to you. If you get rid of it, I won't ever mention my feelings again." He swallowed. "So? What do you choose?"

She shook her head. "I…Harry, I…The baby – I can't just… How can you make me decide?!"

"Let me give you a piece of advice, Hermione," he started angrily, and she was nearly frightened by the change of tone in his voice, "And listen to it. _No one _wants this baby. Not you, not I, not Moody or Voldemort or anyone! Believe me, it's better off dead!"

The front door blasted off its hinges with a force to equal a furious, giant, blast-ended skrewt. Hermione screamed as the wood just barely missed her and Harry, and was struck dumb when Draco Malfoy raged into her living room. She barely managed to come to her senses. "Malfoy!" she cried.

Harry whipped around to see the blonde man just in time before he slammed his pale fist against his jaw.

"You _ass_, Potter!" Malfoy snarled as the Boy Who Lived tried to scramble to his feet. "You _dare_ – you actually _dare _to make Granger pick between your options!"

Hermione paled. "How much did you hear?" she asked.

"Enough!" he yelled. "Enough to know that you don't love him, you never have and you never will!"

Harry managed to orient himself and advanced on his childhood nemesis. Hermione said quickly, "Harry, get out of here!"

He froze and said, "What?"

"I'll take care of this, just get out!" she insisted. "You won't do me any good, right now! I'll talk to you later!"

He looked back and forth between them before storming out of the door, defeated. There wasn't anything he could do for now. Once he was gone, Malfoy huffed. "That bastard!" he snarled. "Break up with him, Granger!"

"How much did you hear?" she asked him again, her voice deadly quiet.

He focused back on her. "I was outside since you asked him why he was pretending to love you."

"Then," she said, "Then you know…"

He reached into his pocket and held out a picture to her. Her eyes widened when she saw what it was. "It got stuck to my coat, somehow," he explained. "I've known for five minutes. About the baby."

She felt her limbs go numb. "I-I can explain," she whispered.

"There's no need," he said, and she was startled by the edge in his voice. "I don't want an explanation. I'm so angry I can barely keep calm, right now."

Oh, God. He knew. He knew that she was pregnant with his baby. What was she going to do? What _could_ she do?

"I can't believe Potter," Malfoy continued, and Hermione held her breath. "How can he tell you to abort his own child?"

Cold swept over her skin.

"What?"

"The choice isn't his, it's yours," he said, and realization slowly began to dawn on her.

"The choice is mine?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he replied. "Yours, the mum's. Not the dad's."

It hit her like a semi-truck; Malfoy thought Harry was the father.

Without another word, she toppled to the floor and every light in the world went out.

A/N:

Last Chapter: Mother Mad-Eye

Next Chapter: Hush Little Baby

Sooo, Harry is being a teensy bit of a bitch. Yeah. He has his reasons.

Today's imaginary food is: Ben & Jerry's ice cream! With the option of switching out for Japanese pan noodles. Please review!


	14. Hush Little Baby

A/N: Heeeyyyiiii. **So, this chapter is much shorter than the others**, just so you know. I felt that adding the rest of the intended chapter would ruin the end, so here you are.

Enjoy, my minions.

Hush Little Baby

By the time she woke up, Hermione knew she had to abort the baby.

The facts were quite plain and simple: She and Malfoy were in a relationship that they shouldn't be in. If found out, they would be killed for it. Not just she, but him as well. In order to protect Malfoy, Hermione would swear on her grave the child was Harry's, even if it came out platinum blonde and holding a green and silver serpent.

This wasn't about her safety anymore, she realized. There was no moment more terrifying for Hermione Granger than realizing that she cared about Draco Malfoy.

If he was killed for being the father of her child, she just might die from the guilt. Malfoy hadn't started anything willingly; it was she that seduced him, she that tried again and again after being rejected, she that tricked him, and she that would get him murdered.

This had to stop. Hermione Granger would cut ties with Draco Malfoy completely.

"Are you awake?"

It was Harry. Of course it was him; he hadn't left her side for days. She opened her dry lips to ask him, "Malfoy?"

"Downstairs," replied he. "He's filling out the paperwork. Wish you could've seen the row we had over who would get to stay here with you."

"Harry," Hermione said quietly. "I'll get the abortion."

She couldn't see his face. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't look. To Harry, this meant she was rejecting him. She couldn't see the face he was making now.

After a long silence, Harry said, "I see."

"Soon," she said. "The earlier the better. If we can arrange it before Malfoy gets up here, then I want to."

"…They actually have an open spot this evening," he said. "I checked when we got here, just in case you changed your mind. I'll go speak with the Healer."

There was a scraping noise as the chair he was on pushed back, a set of light footsteps, and the door shut behind him. Hermione stared at the white spot on the ceiling she had seen since she opened her eyes.

The scariest thing was, Hermione didn't want to do it.

… … …

It was nearly six by the time Malfoy knocked in her door and entered hesitantly. He was holding his hands behind his back and licking his lips nervously. "Um… Do you feel better?" he asked lamely.

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "No," she answered truthfully. Her body felt fine, but her heart was sick.

He looked grim because of the news. "Oh. Uh, I know this is awkward for us," he said, stepping up to the bed, "But I stayed here on purpose. I wanted to tell you that I won't tattle on you."

She blinked.

"You're probably really worried about me knowing," he continued, waving in the general direction of her stomach, "But I won't tell anyone. I won't tell the Dark Lord, my father, my mother, hell, I won't even – okay, I might tell Theo, but his lips are tight, I promise!"

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Things between us," he continued, "are different now. I can't say exactly what's changed, but it's true. This isn't Hogwarts, anymore." He held out his hands, and Hermione was surprised to see a bunch of daisies in his hands. "Congratulations," he said. "You're annoying, but that's going to be one smart kid."

She felt her mouth go dry. Her eyes fixed on the flowers. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered. "This isn't how the Draco Malfoy I know would act. It's almost like you're taking care of me. Why are you being so nice to me?!"

He stared. "You don't know?"

"Of course not!" she cried. "This is useless! You shouldn't have wasted your time bringing me flowers and wishing the baby to be smart, because I won't ever know!"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm getting rid of it," she sniffed. "In thirty minutes."

"Granger, you can't."

"Why can't I?"

"That's your own flesh and blood. You can't."

"Harry will be in danger."

"Potter isn't the issue!"

"What is, then?"

"You!" he yelled. "I guarantee it, you're going to regret it!"

"Just go!"

"Is Potter making you do this?"

"Honestly," she said, "This isn't any of your business, Malfoy."

He stared.

She looked away. "Get out."

"You don't want to abort it," he tried desperately. "I can tell."

"I do," she insisted through gritted teeth.

"I know you're lying, Granger. You're clenching the sheets too hard."

She forced her hands to relax and folded them in her lap. "I'm serious. This is better for everyone."

"I would never do it," he said suddenly. "I wouldn't ever tell you to get rid of our baby."

She froze.

"Potter can't make you decide, Granger," he murmured. "I can tell you don't want to."

Hermione closed her eyes. "The thing is, Malfoy," she said, "This isn't _our _baby."

She never heard him go, but by the time she opened her eyes, he was gone. The daisies lay abandoned on the floor by the door. Six thirty was approaching.

… … …

Draco didn't leave the hospital; he only brooded about on a separate floor, well away from Hermione Granger and her fowl mouth. He grabbed the fabric over his chest when his heart twanged because he recalled her harsh words.

So, they weren't having a baby. _I know that_. Even though he was shallow, conceited, egotistical, and rude, he wasn't stupid. He _knew _what he saw, and he saw Granger begging him to not let her do this. Her eyes had been too sad.

"Excuse me, Sir?"

If she really didn't want to, she didn't have to.

"Sir, um…pardon me?"

Potter didn't have control over her life. But, what could he do?

"Excuse me!"

He blinked. It was the woman from Diagon Alley. "Oh. It's you again."

She looked slightly offended by being referred to so roughly, but smiled at Draco brightly. "Hello! What a coincidence, running into you here. Did you come for a check-up with your wife?"

He felt his cheeks heat up dully. "Something like that. Why are you here?"

She held up her hand. "Broke my wrist on the way home yesterday. It should have been an easy fix, but it got complicated because some man tried to heal it on the spot. So, I stayed overnight to get every fracture fused."

"Getting discharged?"

"Soon, yes," she said. "How is your wife?"

Dare he be truthful? Draco furrowed his brow and said slowly, "Hey… Can I ask you a question?"

The woman blinked. "Um, sure."

He bit his lip. "So, if you were – hypothetically – pregnant, and the father was someone that wasn't too keen on the idea of having a child, how would you feel…about that?"

She smiled. "Is this about you?"

"No!" he said, which was true – Potter was the father, after all. "It's for someone I know. Really!"

"Well," she sighed, "I would be heartbroken, especially if I wanted to keep the child. Does your friend want to give his child up for adoption?"

"Not quite," he murmured. "How would you feel if…that man was forcing you to abort it?"

"I'd rather die," she said immediately.

"Right?" he said, feeling relieved. "You wouldn't do such a thing!"

"No," she said casually. "I would."

Draco swallowed. "Why?"

"Because I love my husband," she said. "It would kill me, but I would do it unless he stopped me himself. It wouldn't even have to be him – I would just want _someone_ to stop me. Anyone."

Draco said numbly, "Anyone."

He turned, hesitated, and ran.

… … …

There was a knock at her door. "Hermione? Are you ready?"

Harry's head popped inside. She tried her best to grin at him, and he blinked in surprise. "Yeah, I'm ready," she said. "The sooner we do this, the sooner I can go back to my regular life. It feels like forever since I've seen Ron. Maybe I'll go visit him in Romania for a week or two?"

Harry cleared his throat. "We should go."

He helped her up and they walked down the hall, avoiding other patients. Harry pressed his bangs down over his scar so no one would see it. Her Healer greeted her outside the procedure room. "Why don't you speak to your guardian for a few minutes, and when you're ready, come on in. It's a simple procedure, and it shouldn't take more than five minutes. Don't be nervous," advised the Healer, and retreated into the room.

Harry fidgeted. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

"Of course!" she giggled, and patted Harry on the back. The white walls of St. Mungo's seemed to spin around her. "You worry too much, Harry."

"You understand why I'm asking you to do this, right?" he whispered. "I can't lose you."

She felt her face slip for a moment. "There's the chance they might never find out," she murmured. "Harry, I can keep the secret of this child's father all my life. I'm confident in that. But even then, you won't trust me?"

"It's him I don't trust," he said. "Not you."

Her throat tightened.

"You're really fine with this?"

She only nodded.

"Okay. I'll be waiting back in your room." Harry gently squeezed her hand and left, disappearing around the corner.

The moment he was gone, Hermione's smile vanished. Rather than go straight into the procedure room, she sat on one of the chairs by the door. She deliberated for a moment, a tiny frown forming on her lips, and slowly wrapped her arms around her middle.

The hallway was silent.

"Hush little baby," she whispered, "Don't you cry. Mum is gonna buy you a mockingbird."

She shut her eyes and sang quietly.

"_And if that mockingbird won't sing, Mum is gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring won't shine, Mum is-_" Hermione cut off too soon and couldn't help the gasp that escaped her. It was now or never. She stood up and walked into the room.

The Healer greeted her with a slightly worried expression. "Oh, Miss Granger," he said, "Are you alright?"

"Let's begin, please," she said quietly.

Rather than do as he was asked, the Healer grabbed Hermione's hands in his own and rubbed them comfortingly. "This is a brave thing to do, Miss Granger," he said. "If at any time, you decide not to go through with this, I will stop."

"Let's begin," she said again.

The Healer instructed her to lay flat on her back on the procedure table. Hermione couldn't help but notice that it was almost like a Muggle operation room, only without any tools or masked surgeons. "We'll start in three minutes, once the after-tonic is complete. It'll help you adjust to the sudden change in your body."

The lyrics of her favorite nursery song floated again in her mind.

_Hush little baby, don't you cry_. More than anything, she was frightened. The idea that she may be killed, that Harry could be in danger, that Malfoy would be threatened and murdered all went through her head in a flash of sudden emotion, and the scariest moment of Hermione's life overtook her when she realized.

She didn't want this abortion.

She wanted the child.

She loved her child.

She fucking _loved_ whatever was overtaking her life and threatening everyone else's. She didn't care about anything else as much, except she _knew_ that Malfoy would be found out, and she _knew_ that Harry wouldn't be able to protect them, and she _knew_ that if anything happened to her or Ron, Harry would die. If Harry died, the war was over.

She couldn't do that to him. He was her brother. And she loved him.

"We're ready, Miss Granger," called the Healer softly.

Hermione instantly burst into silent, angry, and agonized tears. With great effort, as the Healer approached her table, she lifted her trembling hands to cover her face. _Someone stop me, _she pleaded. _Anyone, please._

When no one came, Hermione let her mask fall entirely, and she sobbed.

_Goodbye, my baby._

The door blasted off its hinges. "GRANGER!"

She gasped.

Malfoy strode right up to her and grabbed her hand, and his skin was surprisingly warm. "You're not staying here," he ordered gruffly. "We're leaving. Now."

Was she dreaming?

He pulled her out, practically dragging her through the halls and ignoring the outraged Healers. She wasn't sure how long they walked, or where they even stopped walking, but she thought they were in a garden of some sort. She wasn't sure. She didn't care. Did St. Mungo's have a garden?

"You're here," she said.

Malfoy paused and stared at her. How long had it been since they stopped walking? "Obviously, Granger," he snapped.

"You didn't leave."

"Clearly. I've been here since you fainted this morning. Take better care of yourself!"

"I don't understand," she confessed.

"You don't understand? YOU. FAINTED. I brought you here and contacted Potter to let him know, and then we had a big nasty row over who had to go file paperwork, then we talked and I chose not to leave. What do you not understand?"

"No, not that," she said. "You're here. Why are you here?"

"I told you: I chose not to leave-"

"Malfoy," she whispered, "Why are you _here_?"

They both became aware that he was still gripping her hand, but he didn't let go. "You don't know?" he said for the second time that day.

She shook her head. "I don't."

"I'm here because I know you don't want to go through with it. I know that you and Potter are in that type of relationship, but I understand that you don't even want to be, at least not any longer. I _understand _that you're possibly the biggest player the Wizarding World has ever seen, and I understand that you and I are mortal enemies, and I _understand_ that you are pregnant with another man's child!"

A soft breeze ruffled their hair.

"And I don't care," he announced. "I don't care about any of it. I only care about you."

Hermione's lips trembled. "You stopped me from getting an abortion I didn't want to get," she said. "But Malfoy, why are you here?"

"You don't know?" he said again. Then he leaned forward and whispered, "You really don't know?"

She met the kiss halfway.

A/N:

Last Chapter: I See London, I See France

Next Chapter: Clandestineness Dating 101

The past few chaps have been dark and gloomy but things should pick back up (at least for a while…) So, many of you have expressed your hatred for Harry in this particular fic. I agree that he's being a bitch. But keep your knickers on. Anyway, thank you for reading my author note. I swear no one does. If you do, I totally love you.

Today for reviewing, I offer you good old-fashioned Every Flavor Beans, but be careful with that. I think my elder brother may have switched out all the good ones for bile.

Pan-tan


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